Chasing Red
by Sunburnsfromhell
Summary: In the ruins Dale, right in the midst of battle, a fleeing Sigrid stumbles upon an ancient artifact, forgotten by time itself. This strange trinket will alter her soul, twisting it into something alien and forlorn. The Elvenking's words served as a jarring strike across her pretty face. "Mark my words, little Sigrid, The moment you slid that ring on, you sealed your fate."
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: **

Hey so you're probably wondering why i'm starting up a second story when i'm not near done with the Gintama one? Yeah me too. Anyways, here i am, unable to control my writing habits. So I plan for this story to be pretty long i guess. Thranduil and Sigrid is a pretty odd ship but yeah i hope to make it semi-popular. The website i've used to translate english to Sindarin is called Elfdict, i think it is pretty darn valid but i'm starved for help in any way possible. Critics are welcomed with warm open arms!

**Chasing red**

**Chapter 1 **

The very air seemed poisonous, thick and dense like a rotten fog. The pollution of evil itself. Sigrid would much rather breathe in the ashes left from the destruction of Dale -something that had endured for years upon years- than this stench of fresh blood. Yes, she could smell the fear. The smell of fear enclosed her in a cocoon, following her every step as she ran through the toxic environment. Her throat felt raw and torn up from her screams, but still, it wasn't like she wasn't about to stop now. They were gone, she had lost them. It was an almost choking feeling, to be alone without her family by her side. Her father was away in a different part of the ruins, leading the forces. She had lost sight of Tilda and Bain, they must have gotten separated after that troll-like creature attacked.

It all went by so fast... First they were together and then that thing came upon them. She had screamed for Bain to run whilst grabbing Tilda by the arm... and then she'd ran straight into bricks it seemed. Everything went dark and she later woke up in the debris of stones and wood. Tilda and Bain were nowhere to be seen as well as the troll. Blood seeped from the side of her head, leaking into her clothes. She cried but hardly heard her own sobs over the ear-splitting racket from the fighting forces. The shrieks of pain and terror ate her up inside and Sigrid knew that chances were good, that she would meet her demise here.

"Tilda! Bain!" her voice cracked and screeched.

She sounded mad and sick. She had a wounded arm (what part of her wasn't wounded at this point?), trembling she held it to her side and stayed close to the stone walls. She could hardly do anything but to run if she came upon an orc and even that was hard. Her feet hurt and her limbs ached, it was even hard to breathe. Sigrid needed help if she was going to survive this. She needed to get to the great hall, that was the only logical location for the women and children. Tilda and Bain had to be there, they just had to. Suddenly the stone wall she was leaning on gave away under her weight like loose timber. She went down with it, crashing down on the hard ground and splitting her skin open on the sharp stones. She hit her head once again, on the very same place and for only a few seconds her gaze turned black, like she'd blinked for way too long.

"Nonono..." she wheezed out and slowly turned on her side.

Her bleary eyes caught something glimmering in the shadows, something blinking at her. There was a basket, filled with trinkets of all sorts but the thing that transfixed her was the small object laying off the side to the small treasures. A ring. Red like pure rubies, like spilt blood. It was simple in its form, almost average were it not for its crimson colour. Sigrid couldn't stop staring at it, her brown orbs, wide like dinner plates. She almost wanted to cover it up, throw a blanket over it and shield it from unwanted eyes. She compulsively bit her already torn lip, not thinking much of the pain. Her limbs felt wobbly but it didn't stop her from reaching out and grasping the ring. It was warm and it seemed to shine and gleam in the palm of her dirty hand, red shadows danced on her skin, making it almost glow orange. She would keep it, she knew she would. She had to... Keepers founders right?

Holding the ring in her clenched fist, she unsteadily rose up and stood a little crouched down, scanning her surroundings. The ruined pathways laid littered with corpses, bloodstains and severed limps. She knew not to look down, not to look at the fresh meat. many of the bodies were already surrounded by flies, buzzing around those glassy, swollen eyes and pallid-blue lips. The scenery of doom, it was like a horrid nightmare. One had to avoid the scarring details and asume a tunnel-vision. One way or another, they would have to emotionally detach themselves in order to actually function in this hell. Sigrid didn't know how to do that but the ring provided her with a good distraction. Strangely, she felt stronger with the ring in her fist. She only had to follow her instincts now, run from the horrors, run until you collapse. Her feet moved and her vision became blurred from her flight. She wasn't going to stop for nothing, if anything she would just run faster.

Fastened on the houses were old and ruined signboards giving her some directions but that was all she had to go on. She could make it though, she had to. The smelly, ash-filled air assaulted her face as she jumped over a fallen log. For some reason, she felt hope in this hopeless situation. Hope beyond hope. She would arrive at the great hall and Tilda and Bain would both be there and Da would come later and he would be alright, he would be alive. Everything would be fine. It had to, it just had to because the alternative was just too dreadful to even consider. So Sigrid leaped through the ruined streets, jumping left and right to avoid stepping on loose stones and dead bodies. Somehow she failed to notice the commotion she was running towards, darting straight into the maw of the wolf. She came upon a courtyard and the fighting was at its thickest here.

She froze up and choked on the scream rising in her throat. Orcs and elves fought here and the sounds of war rose around her like the bars of a cage. She had somehow found herself at the centre of it. Sigrid wrenched herself back, determined to find another way to the great hall. However, such a hasty motion made her stumble on a severed arm she'd failed to notice. She fell to the ground with a yelp and the odd encouragement she'd felt before slipped through her fingers like sand... just like her ring. She lost it and watched the red, gleaming trinket roll away from her and landing just beneath the feet of an orc. It was like time stopped. Sigrid clumsily stood up, ignoring her new bloody scrapes on her elbows and knees. The orc wasn't looking at her, instead he seemed to be gazing at the ring on the ground. To her horror, he started to crouch down towards it.

"NO!" she shrieked at the foul creature and her feet moved on their own.

She picked up the severed arm, heavy in its black armour and with a shuddering breath she threw it at the orc, hitting his head and directing his attention to her. She was scared but knew she couldn't back down now. With horror, she saw as the fiend, instead of charging her, looked back at the ring. He was distracted now but why? It was so unnatural. Tears sprang to her eyes as she quickly bent down to pick up a massive rock. Her eyes flickered between the ring the immersed orc and with a cry, she ran forward and tackled the orc to the ground, using all off her weight. She couldn't believe her luck as the monster dropped his axe in surprise and in return she furiously beat him around the head with the pointed rock.

Over and over again, she beat him hard for what felt like years. Her nails dug into the stone and bled, as did the horrid creature under her as his helmet flew off during her rampage. Blood seeped from his head, spattering all over her face and neck. His teeth were black and crooked and his lips looked green and chapped with some mud-like substance. She couldn't stop her arms, she couldn't stop her tears and her snarls. She kept on until his body stopped twitching, until his eyes stopped blinking. She noticed that orc blood was different. It was a black mass, the taste was rotten and bitter and the smell reminded her of decomposition. It was eating her alive. Her shrieks of anger and fear turned into high sobs of terror. She had never been more afraid, felt more out of place...

She fell away from the dead orc and her arm reached out to the ring, her price. Her own. She watched it closely and held it to her heaving chest, glad the filth did not touch it. She choked and gasped, weeping definitely not for the orc but for her own actions. This wasn't her... it wasn't, she wasn't impulsive and violent and-and... She couldn't even put it into words.

Sigrid knew she needed to get up and run away, she was in the eye of the storm, if she stayed here any longer she would be killed. All this she knew but it never reached the forefront of her distorted mind. She felt frozen, she didn't know where to go, she didn't even know if she was strong enough to stand. It was like her limbs laid enclosed in frostbite. The hopelessness of the reality, creeped up on her, strangling her neck and squeezing her ribcage. She watched elves and men fall around her like crumbling towers, like the demolishing of buildings.

"Hopeless"

"Hopeless"

"Hopeless"

The words repeated themselves in a mantra, she could not hinder them. Her shaking breath came out in uneven puffs and her chapped lips trembled beyond control. She slid the ring onto her finger, afraid that she would drop it again. It fit her well enough, as if it was made for her, as if it morphed itself to fit her fingers. Despite all of this, nothing changed, nothing mattered and least of all this useless trinket. Hope was gone, it was an illusion... what did she expect. She was gripped by anger and suddenly wanted to fling the ring away from her. Throw it away like trash, like it was to blame for all the evil in the world. But she didn't... she couldn't bring herself to do it.

There had to be more to it, she hadn't killed that orc for nothing. There had to be a reason... a reason. There had to be something that kept her from taking out her anger on the trinket. What had she gained? Then it dawned on her. She didn't feel pain anymore, the ache from her fingers, the bang from her muscles, the sting from her ripped skin... it had all numbed. Now that she thought of it, numbness was spreading through her whole body. Like when her limbs fell asleep, only without the jabbing and disoriented feeling.

The blood in her veins seemed to warm up and something shifted in her, it moved through her like a gust of hot air. She stared at the ring in still and silent wonder. Her captivating thoughts were rapidly pushed away. Sigrid barely avoided the arrow aimed at her head, she turned her head slightly to the right. The pointy tip of it stared her straight in her tear-filled eye. A shuddering breath left her lungs, as the realisation that she could have died washed over her like a cold shower.

A large armoured hand held the arrow in place and by her side stood a great elf. He seemed to radiate light and power... The brightness would have stung her eyes if she could feel it. For some reason he had this strange energy around him, it was really odd. He stood slightly bent down and she couldn't see his face as it was angled away to the orc that had fired the shot in the first place. The radiating elf snapped the arrow in half, only using the hand which held it. He stepped away from her side to cut down the enemy.

She took a better look at her saviour. The strange power around him made him look illuminated... come to think of it, the other elves looked like that as well, maybe they didn't gleam as much as her saviour but they still shone nonetheless. Beneath and around their golden armour, a luminous white light peeked out. Like they were beings of spun silver or starlit pears. They didn't look like that before... what changed? Was she finally losing it? Something told her that the elf who had saved her was important, his armour suggested that, silver and steel and instead of gold. A mantle of what seemed to be silverly leaves, pointed like knives, draped down his back. Who was he?

Suddenly the elf turned around and started to walk back towards her and she noticed a myriad of things, all at once. One: He was the elvenking, Thranduil of Mirkwood. Two: Amongst all that almost burning light, there was a speck of malicious danger. The light which stemmed from his visage was far from holy, far from good. Three: His face was hideous, a raw mess that frightened her to the core.

"No..." Sigrid gasped out as he came closer, towering over her like great hound.

Half of his face looked burnt, almost rotten. A red mass of muscle, a truly horrid sight, a devastating scar. It reached up to his right eye which was clouded in white, it didn't even have a pupil... it just looked blind and dead. She sat crippled with fear and she cried even more as his one blue eye closed in on her shaking form. He stalked towards her and he didn't look happy. This was wrong, there was some deep rooted malice coming from him in waves, she just couldn't explain it. She couldn't explain why he scared her more than the orcs, he had just saved her forsaken life. She shouldn't be feeling this way. She couldn't control her fears though, it steered her every move. Sigrid scrambled away from his terrible gaze, crawling over the corpse behind her and cutting herself on the sharp edges of the black armour. It went all unnoticed. She was a sobbing mess.

"No, no i don't want to... don't..." she cried out, not so loud as she would have wanted, her voice hoarse.

The elven king stopped for a moment, staring at her with a bewildered frown on his scarred face. He was deeply confused that this mortal didn't bend over backwards with gratitude and appreciation. Instead... she looked at him with fear reflecting in her glossy eyes. He knew who she was, one of the dragonslayer's brats, it would be in his best interest if she survived this war, as a way to keep up good relations with the fishermen. Not to mention... something was clearly wrong with the girl and his eyes couldn't help be drawn to the shining ring on her finger, red like blood. He recognised it, he just couldn't figure out where he had seen it before. The girl had killed an orc for that trinket... with a measly stone nonetheless. He wasn't blind. He knew the ring must have some magic capacity to it. Though it probably only was a small charm to keep it glowing like that for aesthetic reasons. He should be grateful that it wasn't what it could have been, it could have been worse. Much worse.

Sigrid saw her chance and took it. With surprising balance, she stood up and ran to the other side of the courtyard, avoiding the masses as best as she could. She fled towards a set of stairs when a shining figure took ahold of her arm and she recoiled in alarm. The unfamiliar elf held her in a tight grip.

"Why are you here mortal? This is no place for you!" he yelled, pulling her away to a corner.

"I...I don't know..." was all she could get out, trying to hold back her tears but it was just as hopeless as everything else.

_"Andaer! Tog hen na i beleg tham, tog Herion di ech eithro. Dortha- di hen a thand hen until i auth na or."_ The elvenking's voice boomed out as he walked up to them with another elf in tow. _"Cheb- an hend bo i cor hen heb a trenar- enni ae ma minai tol os"._

The elf who had arrived with the king, moved over to stand by her other side, effectively caging her in between the two elves. She tried not to stagger backwards at the elvenking's scarred appearance. She had seen much worse during the last few days so why would this have such an affect on her? The ring on her finger grew even warmer and she clenched her fist around it, hiding it behind her skirt. She didn't know what he'd said to the two elves but the grip on her arm tightened and the two elves suddenly started to move away, bringing her along. She reared back however.

"M-my lord, i am deeply regretful for my behaviour! I was merely crippled with shock but please tell me where your men may take me!" She bowed her head, she would have bent the knee but it was hard with the elf warrior clutching her like there was no tomorrow. Sigrid tried to be subtle as she avoided the elvenking's face, she bit her lip until it bled some more, red dripping down her chin. She couldn't feel the pain that should be there... the numbness was spreading... circling around in her bloodstream. Her hand snapped into motion, hiding her bleeding mouth in shame. In their eyes, she was already so revoltingly mortal and she didn't have to make it more apparent. She didn't shine like them, she was just dull and dirty.

"Don't cause my men too much unnecessary trouble, Bardsdottir." That was all he said as the elves then strode away with her. She didn't know where they were escorting her to, she only hoped it was towards safety.

**Translations: **

_"Andaer! Take her to the great hall, take Herion with you as well. Stay by her side and protect her until the war is over. Keep an eye on the ring she bears and tell me if anything unique comes to pass."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The great hall was filled to the brink with women, children and wounded or eldery men. It was one of the few buildings that wasn't in complete ruins. it looked fairly liveable actually if all the ash were dusted off. Everyone turned their heads and settled their alarmed eyes at her once she entered with her elven soldiers. She must have looked mad, covered in sticky, smelly orc blood, along with two shiny elves at her side. She needed to clean herself, really.

"I thank you for taking me to safety... but shouldn't you return to the battle?" Sigrid carefully asked, turning around and looking at the elves, although she hardly had the courage to meet their eyes.

"The king has ordered us to stay by your side until further instructions," one of them said with a tone that suggested that he did not want any more questions.

So that was what he'd said earlier... she wished she could understand elvish. No doubt, the elves were annoyed that they had to babysit her rather than fighting in the war. Sigrid nodded and curtsied deeply before going off to find her siblings. She couldn't understand why the elvenking would dispatch his own guards to her like that but that was a question she had to ponder about later... if she gets the chance to. She knew she couldn't do anything right now either way. So she went around, asking for Tilda and Bain, the guards kept the distance but made sure not the lose sight of her. She could practically feel their eyes on her, it prickled her skin like small needles and she did her best to push away her rising discomfort. She walked along the seated and standing masses until a familiar voice reached her ear.

"Sigrid!" Tilda yelled and she barely managed to apprehend what was happening until she was on her knees, holding her sister close.

Tilda cried into her shoulder, she didn't seem to care much about her filthy state. Of course she wouldn't. Sigrid almost brokenly whispered her name, running her fingers through her hair, making sure that it was real. And it was, she had survived... Her own little Tilda had survived. She heard Bain's voice next and without letting go of her sister, she pulled him down to her and hugged them both. If they'd died... Sigrid left the thought unfinished. Her family was alive for the time being. She held them close and shed tears of relief on Bain's jacket.

To be seated within the sealed walls of the great hall, was loads better than to be out on the battlefield. Still, people sat with their children close and their head bent low, like they were awaiting their own execution. At any time, any moment, the doors could be breached and their doom would unmask itself. It was almost as if people were expecting such an outcome, powerless to do anything about it. Sigrid sat in sullen silence and slowly cleaned away the blood from her skin. One of the elderly women had handed her a bucket and a brush with clean, warm water. So she sat there and slowly coloured the clean water in a brownish shade as her skin regained its normal shade. She took the time to look over her wounds, specifically the large cut and bruise on her forehead. She cleaned it with her handkerchief, drenched in water.

She had rather quickly slid off her ring before Tilda or Bain could even notice the trinket, putting it away in her pocket. For some reason, she didn't want them to know about it, she didn't want anyone to know about it... Due to this however, the pain came back and blossomed as she prodded on her injures but that was expected. Sigrid couldn't help but wonder if this was even necessary since she knew that the bloodshed may not be over just yet. She pushed the bucket away, feeling clean enough. Apparently, before they got separated, Sigrid had managed to run straight into a metal signboard, explaining why she passed out so suddenly, as well as her bruise and terrible headache. Bain had taken Tilda and without much of a choice. They fled with the troll chasing after them and In the end, they ran into the elves who quickly took the beast down.

"We tried to get back to you but there were just too many people everywhere and more orcs were coming in from the place we had left you in... Please i'm sorry, i'm just so glad you survived..." Bain had told her with actual tears in his eyes.

She had hugged him once more for that, keeping her fingers curled in his mossy hair. "You did well, you have nothing to be sorry about Bain... Da would be so proud," she had whispered to him, doing her best to keep her tears at bay.

She had to be strong... strong for Bain because he couldn't take everything by himself and strong for Tilda because she was too young to bear such burdens. Now they took turns cleaning themselves and she watched with tired but alert eyes as Bain started scrubbing Tilda, slowly peeling away the dirt and dried ash she had on her hands and cheeks. Sigrid kept her hands in her pockets, holding the ring and feeling its never-ending warmth radiate through her weary limbs. She discreetly slipped it on and immediately started to feel a bit better. It was a comforting experience, like a warm hug of sorts. It felt at home on her finger.

"Why are there elves here?" Bain suddenly asked as he worked on their sister's skin.

She bit her lip, not knowing what to say. "They are here to protect us," she said with an air of finality, she didn't want more questions about the elves and their purpose for she knew she couldn't answer all of them... she hardly knew anything at all.

The fact was that they had been ordered to only protect her was something Bain didn't need to know, then they would both be unnecessarily clueless. Time passed and the noise from outside was slowly but surely starting to die down... but it wasn't gone completely. Earlier some of the women without children to care of, had gathered whatever weapon they could find and left with the intention of fighting alongside their men. She looked for a part of her that wanted to come with them but found none. She had seen her fair share of battle, she had already delivered her own justice. She had her younger siblings to look after, she couldn't leave no matter what and she sure didn't want to.

The elves did not do much to stop the ladies as they left, instead they re-sealed the doors and stayed by the gate, guarding it. They looked to be conversing with each other but of course she couldn't understand their words. Sigrid decided to try to talk to them, she felt that she needed to express her gratitude more, they had actually brought her here safe and sound. The very same old lady that had offered her the necessities needed to clean herself before, had another bucket filled with cold water directly from the deep well. Her blue eyes smiled at Sigrid as she came up and asked for two cups of the refreshments.

"You don't need to ask honey, It's for everyone," she said with a smile that took great endurance to wear at times like these.

Her wrinkly hands handed her two wooden cups and she gave the old woman little grin in return, trying to hide her nervousness. She crossed the room with the cups, her siblings watching her like small hawks. She tried not to spill too much of the water as she oriented towards the stoic elves. They shone, giving off the usual luminous glow. Standing out like two silver and golden towers amongst the dull grey and brown of the scenery. She was reminded of their scarred but nonetheless handsome king. Well he was an elf after all, a pretty face came with the package. Was she going to ask them if they knew anything about that scar? No, no way, that would be rude... it was too much of a personal question and certainly not one to ask his soldiers. She had to mirror their respect for the elvenking as much as possible. And that meant to not be perceived as prodding or prying.

"My lords..." she started as she came to an halt before them, looking into the small slits in their helmets that revealed their eyes. Both a stunning blue. "I have brought you refreshments, i thought you might be thirsty... After all, it is important that you maintain your strength in these trying times."

She bowed her head in respect whilst wondering if the speech was a little too much. The elven men didn't give her an answer first, it was a short silence but it was enough for her to worry. To her relief one of them took of his golden helmet, and a perfectly structured face looked back at her. She was taken aback by his beauty.

"We thank you, little lady," he said and Sigrid recognised him as the first one who had taken ahold of her on the battlefield.

"My name is Andaer and this is my cousin Herion." He gestured to the quiet elf by his side, probably the one she had talked to before since he didn't seem as polite a his companion.

Andaer took the cups and handed one to his cousin who finally seemed to make up his mind and took his helmet off as well. They both had long brown hair that looked so even that it was hard to imagine that they'd been fighting a war recently. Even though they looked alike, there were obvious differences. Herion's hair were a shade darker, as were his eyes.

"My name is Sigrid and I'm no lady but i'm flattered at the title, sir," she gave a polite laugh, not full of mirth but at the same time not dull and forced either.

Andaer turned out to be the more talkative one as they sat down. She was happy that the conversation went smoothly enough. Herion on the other hand, sat quietly and sipped on his water, whilst plotting world domination it seemed.

"So you don't know why your king dispatched you to me?" she asked as they came upon the subject, hoping for some information.

"No but we are in no position to question his command, it must be for a well-thought out reason..." Andaer answered, scratching his head in thought.

She was about to agree when Herion suddenly chimed in: "It better be, what was he thinking... taking us away from where we are the most needed."

The elf sported a sour expression as he spoke, like he'd just swallowed a lemon. His more extroverted cousin was notable irked by this.

"Herion! Orders are orders and you are obligated to follow them," Andaer bit out with a scowl. His light blue eyes softened a bit as he took his companions almost irritated fidgeting. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"I know it's hard for you to sit cooped up here whilst our kin are out there facing evil but you have to understand that the king always have a good reason for his actions. His wisdom and insight far exceeds that of our own and we have to respect that. It is during a crisis like this that insubordination can have chaotic consequences... The first step to order is trusting our king." Andear finished of his little speech with a small smile, a gentle one.

Herion didn't seem convinced and neither did he seem surprised at his cousin's defensive and definitive stance.

"I know all that! I just think that we should have more room to criticise his decisions, honestly what kind of purpose do we serve up here?" he rather bitterly retorted.

"I hope you know that we have no choice but to trust his decisions, he's been around for far longer than us and with age comes insight... as I said insubordination is not favourable no matter what shape it takes. Besides, you should think twice about doubting our king in such a open environment, cousin." Andear lowly answered, calm with authority as he placed a hand on Herion's shoulder.

Herion himself inspected the floor with great intensity before he straightened up and fixed Andear with a look that was rather hard to interpret.

"I apologise for my words... My loyalty to the king is never ending and I know that I should think of how I express my thoughts. You know i'm just worried anyway so this conversation is useless," he said, taking gulp from the water.

His cousin gave him a small smile that seemed to say more than what was visible. "I am too..." was all he said back and thus both of them seemed to sink into their own thoughts.

Sigrid furrowed her brows, her gaze had stuck itself somewhere onto the shine of their golden armour. She hugged the ring on her finger, it almost pulsed.

"Your king will prevail, I can feel it."

She didn't know why she said that as they both met her eyes, looking a bit confused. But she really meant it, it was a clear feeling in the pit of her stomach, Thranduil will not lose this war. It was a difficult feeling. It was hope beyond hope but she had never felt so sure about anything before. It felt as if it was a fact of the universe.

"We shall not lose hope," she remarked softly, her smile trembling from an onslaught of emotions.

Herion was the one to speak up first, he looked beautiful with smile on his face, he should really do that more often as it made him stand out. The strange glow around him nearly sparkled like small gems.

"I admire your hope, my lady... Maybe being stuck here has its perks for otherwise we wouldn't have met the lovely Sigrid of Laketown."

Her cheeks grew red like a tomato, red like her ring as she processed his words. Andear just rolled his eyes with little grin. At least now she had confirmed that Herion didn't hold any kind of distaste towards her as she had at first presumed. If anything, he seemed guilty that he wasn't out helping his people. They sat and talked for a little while more and she got to know the elves quite well. They had grown up together in the woodland realm and only been to Dale two times before. When it still had been a prosperous city, before the terror of Smaug. Andear was the older one, coming up on 1003 in November, whilst Herion had just turned 709. She felt strangely out of place with her young age of 18.

In the end she bid the fair elves farewell for the time being as she noticed her siblings needed her. ... Sigrid braided Tilda's hair with her torn fingers. Numb but functional nonetheless. Bain frowned at the ground, sometimes sneaking glances at her. He knew something was up but if he'd taken note of the ring, he sure hadn't said anything about it. He was smart and Sigrid was actually quite proud of him. Who wouldn't be? He'd aided in killing Smaug and there was dried orc blood on his sword. Half of her was sick with worry and the other half basked in pride for him. He was strong, he had always been but his battles will leave scars and she hoped she would be there to heal them all. Or at least try to...

They sat like that for hours and Tilda had -despite everything- fallen asleep on her lap. She sat leaned back on the hard wall. Bain sat with his sword in his lap, nodding off from time to time. He was exhausted, she could tell. Everyone was. She decided to take this moment to inspect her ring, even though she had already done it for some time now but she just couldn't get enough of its beauty and wonder. It's funny how she'd already decided it was hers... She noticed that it was a bit dirty. Sigrid slid it off, turned towards the cleaning bucket and rinsed it off before returning it to its rightful place on her slender ring finger. It's strange how it seemed to have moulded itself after her slender fingers for it fit so perfectly.

This ring had to be magic, there were no other explanations for the wonders it did to her. The warmth, the numbness... the fact that it shimmered like a sunlit gemstone, its rays kissed her fingers in an orange-redish hue, it reminded her of a flowing liquid or a dancing flame. All at once there came bangs from the door and Herion and Andear sprung automatically into action. She jumped and automatically held Tilda close, covering her ears. The little girl woke up with cry latched in her throat. Bain almost frantically clutched his sword, his eyes awake and aware.

"Who goes there?!" Herion shouted, as he and his cousin stood side by side with their helmets on and spears raised.

"We've won ladies!" an overly cheerful voice shouted back of obvious Laketown accent. Sigrid could hardly believe it, she had almost expected it to be orcs and she slowly but surely let Tilda go as her sister sat up.

"Lena? Honey are you alright?" another voice broke out behind the gate.

"Sigurd?" A younger woman responded somewhere from Sigrid's right.

The elves unlatched the door and it was swung open by a bunch of victorious fishermen, many of them wounded but happy nonetheless. The people clashed with each other in hugs and kisses and Sigrid and her siblings had to move away from the onslaught. The air smelled of blood as they came out of the enclosure, she held Tilda's hand, telling her not to look at the corpses. Herion and Andear was in the front of the lead, calling out in elvish for their kin. Another mass of people came up to meet them and later elves on horseback rode up as well.

Her two elf friends strode up to their people and they already seemed immersed in a conversation. She was glad they finally got to see one of their own at last. Sigrid looked around and her heart almost stopped as she noticed a familiar face in the crowd.

"Da!" she yelled as she took her sibling with her to embrace their father.

As she stood there in his arms, she cried like a little girl as her family was reunited. It was as she stood so closely held in his arms, that the realisation hit her hard. He had made it through, her father hadn't fallen. In way, she'd gone about trying to prepare herself for a different outcome. Now it all just spilled out of her, the stress and the hurt. Everyone was fine, they were alive. Her family was still whole. Still.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

The large, oval study room laid bathed in a yellow glow, sun rays danced through the windows to the silver adored walls. He tried to figure out why his desk hadn't been cleaned in a while. Letters he didn't recognise and in-depth documents on different marmalades from Hobbinton, laid spread out in disarray. He knew now who'd been here. Disorder and overall messiness disgusted Thranduil enough at is. However, the overall stupid need to seemingly write down the production history of marmalades, was a spectacular waste of his writing materials. He was almost flabbergasted at it. How can anyone be interested in this?

His eyes moved around the desk and came to rest on a letter he could actually recognise within the mess. An old letter from Elrond, an invitation to Rivendell to attend some sort of "council". He had so graciously declined... He didn't need to be in Rivendell to know what was being plotted there, he had his eyes and ears everywhere. A knock echoed from the wide and tall double doors, engraved in an ancient decor of climbing thorns and blossoming roses. White and red, like snow and blood.

"Sire, i have the documents you asked for," the voice of his secretary could be heard through the wood.

"Enter," he answered monotonically.

The doors opened with a small creek and Thranduil turned to the one he knew had used his study room without permission. His secretary had with him only around three documents and he was surprised at the lack of information on his family's heritage.

"I would advise my lord to be as careful as possible with these papers, they are very old." The younger elf bowed his head in respect holding out the yellow-tinted writings.

"Winton, may I ask why you have been using my study room without permission?" Thranduil asked nonchalantly as he warily took ahold of the time-worn documents.

His secretary turned a bit pale and his green eyes went wide, he looked ridiculous. For being an elf, Winto Ryndirion was rather expressive, his facial expression had quickly become a topic of mirthful discussions around the court. He wouldn't say the nobles were actively poking fun at him behind his back but... well he was indeed the source of numerous inside jokes. Of course Winto himself was still young and remained fairly naive, he reminded the king of Legolas when he was in his fifties. Now as the young elf opened his mouth, he seemed to think very hard of what cards he could play. Of course, he didn't have any.

"You don't need to answer that but know that if you do it again, i will nail you to an anchor and let you sink down into the enchanted river. I've been wondering how deep it is for some time, wouldn't you care to find out?"

He turned around and put the documents on the table, observing his servant's petrified face in the window. Green eyes flickered around like flies.

"Eeeh m-m-my lo-" the youngling stammered in mortification.

"Tell the cleaners to tidy up this place. You are dismissed," he drawled out. Winton left the room with a stiff bow and a muffled "yes sire".

The king ultimately decided to relocate to his private chambers for he couldn't work in this filth. As he later went through the documents in the quietness of his chambers, he couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't taken a look at this before. Carnimírë, Corma -o anwa or "red jewel, the ring of gifts" in Westron. The language of which Sigrid could understand. It was a lesser magic ring, magic rings were quite common in contradistinction to popular beliefs. As long as they were the lesser ones...

According to the legend, Carnimírë had the potential to be quite powerful but as long as it wasn't counted amongst the 20 rings of power, its title as a "lesser magic ring" stood its ground. According to the myths, It was made by the smiths of Aulë, as a price to be won in some sort of tournament or competition. It was said that Aulë's wife Yavanna, blessed the ring with the knowledge of how to grow and preserve earth-based organisms. They told of how Yavanna plucked the rays of the newly created sun and made the ring warm, blessed with heat for a lulling peacefulness and protection.

The Valar Irmo Lórien, blessed the ring as well with the potential of visions and sensory consciousness, the gift of see through guises and illusions. Whilst the lady of sorrow Nienna, Lóriens sister, gifted the ring with the weight of strong emotions. Of tears of grief and distress that would later transform into hard-fought wisdom. A deep understanding of the inner workings of the heart which would give way for a sturdy compassion that would strengthen the spirit.

It is said that Nienna was melancholy in nature and the few times she was actually happy, it tended to come in waves of disaray. Whilst her anger rolled in across the skies in thunderstorms and her sadness came through in rainstorms, drencing the world of Arda as she wept. Anyone would turn neurotic and unstable if they lived in that constant loop with extreme ups and downs. The last of the Valar that blessed the ring was Estë, who gave it the gift of healing wounds and numbing bodily pain. Though all of these stories were mere legends since the only thing the ring had been proven capable of doing were to see through minor illusions and show off vauge images of the future. Rarely had it healed wounds and when it did show those qualities, it had never been able to heal anything that's older than 20 years.

In the back of his mind, he concluded that much of this script was made up mumbo jumbo. Still it was his heritage and an ancient artifact. Carnimírë had since then been passed down through the family of the elf who won the tournament. It was a tournament for the first elves in Valinor and thus the elf who had won the ring was of the Vanyar kin. His name was believed to be Langion. So it went on for many, many years before the last living descendant -whose name had been Aldon Rautorion- of that noble elf family gave away the ring to Thranduils father Oropher during the war of wrath. The ring had been lost to them during his father's years, before they founded the kingdom of the woodland realm.

Thranduil had a faint memory of the ring, glittering in the sun on his fathers writing desk. It had most probably been stolen and then during over the years, it had somehow ended up in the ruins of Dale... not too far away from its owners. From the painting of the ring on one of the documents, in accordance to his own memory of it, Thranduil knew that the chance of Sigrid having it in her grasp at the moment was high. High enough for a visit. It rightfully belonged to him and for it be in the hands of a young, foolish little girl, a mortal nonetheless - was an insult.

The thoughts of one magic ring brought his thoughts over to another. He had sent Tauriel and Legolas to investigate the orc threat and due to that, he'd gained new insight. A shadow that grows in the dark, the seething malice. He had time to rebuild his forces but not that much time, he couldn't afford any laziness from his men now... And of course, his ancestral ring would be an advantage to them in the future world war. Legolas had taken off, obviously put off by the fact that his feelings for Tauriel was pretty one sided.

Thranduil had played around with idea of banishing Tauriel for her disobedience. She had become sidetracked with helping the dwarves and the people of Laketown. That had not been her mission, her compassion got in the way of her duties and that was just not tolerated. He had made sure to reprimand her for that. Her punishment had been a lower rank, as a mere foot solider. Banishment was too much of a waste and he knew how humiliated that rank had been for Tauriel. Now more than ever, she worked to prove herself and in a twist of irony maybe became even more loyal than before. There was only one positive thing about Tauriel's little excursion to Laketown, she had saved Sigrid (and her siblings as well but they weren't important).

If Sigrid hadn't survived then maybe the ring wouldn't have been found. What a stroke of luck, well maybe not for her. She seemed quite smitten with the ring, having killed an orc in cold blood for it. It will be fun to see her crestfallen face when he comes to take her new treasure away. According to the guards he had left her with, she always kept the ring close and was mindful of any eyes on her. He hadn't sent them there to only spy on her but to protect her as well... or at least the ring.

**...**

Three weeks had passed and everyone had busied themselves by rebuilding their life, mourning for the dead and letting the new reality sink in. The days were hectic... as if the people could find some solace by being active, a distraction from the tragedy they've endured. As Dale was undergoing reconstruction, the people of Laketown dwelled in the halls of Erebor, which was also being renovated to its near primary state. They moved into to the less destroyed parts of the mountain. The halls were beautiful despite its past horrors. The walls and floors laid in a gleaming dark green marble and the hallways were always lined and decorated with small lanterns, kissing the mountain-halls in a faint yellow light, gleaming almost as much as its treasures.

With the promised gold, Dale as well as Erebor was being rebuilt in record time and the days were filled with loud sounds of people working. Bain was kept busy by father with training and helping around the construction. Tilda couldn't do much but help her in the kitchens, handing out food to the workers. Sigrid liked to cook, it had always been an interest of hers and the more time she spent in the kitchens with the other women, the more she got to learn. She felt almost content given the circumstances. The -at the start- daily nightmares from the war that had kept her up, had gotten fewer and fewer as her mind worked to distract itself. Now she'd gone up to six days without a dream and the fact of it could be felt in her well-rested limbs.

Now she walked around clean, with her hair braided and stomach full. Erebor was filled with spare clothes, left behind from the tragedy. As of now, a dwarfish robe hung over her frame, reaching only to her knees but otherwise fitting. A brown, corset-like garb, lined with gold and off-the-shoulders white puff sleeves. She felt almost like a princess. And she may even be one soon... there had been plenty of rumours around the halls. That once Dale was finished, the people sought to choose Bard as their king and head of state... Sigrid didn't know what to feel about the ordeal but she was still proud of her father and their family.

She kept walking with her mind in the skies. The ring still sat on her finger but she'd taken to only sometimes wear it. At times she put it in her corset or in one of her pockets. When she wore it on her finger (like now for instance) she was mindful of always wearing gloves over it. Leather gloves that made a squeaking noise as her fingers clutched the edges of the netted basket she currently had in charge of. The secrecy of the ring felt almost natural, however it left her feeling a bit paranoid that any of the greedy dwarves would accidentally see it.

Something else bothered her as well... the treasure, the gold of Erebor. It was their hope yes but... somehow it felt wrong. She had only been in the great coin chamber once but it was more than enough. The large masses of gold reached far and wide, big like gleaming sand dunes in a desert, like a golden, shimmering ocean. A darkness had been there, curling around the coins and gems like the great dragon had once done. It was as if the treasure was alive with something, a beast that still hid away underneath the piles of gold, like an underwater monster. Such an unnerving presence made it hard to breathe and she felt as if the gold coins had eyes, all watching her, every one of them ripe with some corruption. The ring pulsed rapidly just by her thoughts of it. Nevertheless, she had kept her distance after that, not too keen on visiting the chamber again.

"What brings a fair maiden over to these parts?"

Sigrid couldn't help but sigh as she turned to the dwarf. She looked down at Kili, the "prince" of Erebor. He had been pleasant enough at the start but she was starting to tire at his president flirting. Wasn't he 77 years old? No matter what, age didn't seem to stop him but her father did as he didn't say much in his presence. She didn't know how to tell him off without sounding rude... he and his brother must still grieve over the death of Thorin...

"Laundry..." she finally said with a thin smile. She kept on walking with the dwarf by her side.

"I don't think you should do laundry," Kili said as he nonchalantly played with a silver coin in his hands.

She looked at with perplexed expression, a little affronted for some reason... He noticed her look.

"I just meant that you will probably be a rather noble person after Dale is rebuilt so you would have servants," he reassured her with a boyish smile.

"Nothing is certain yet..." she replied, picking up a basket as they came out to the afternoon sun, the dry laundry barely moving in the breeze.

"Did you know you have a nickname by the way?" Kili changed the subject as he walked amongst the sheets.

"What? No, why?" Sigrid furrowed her brows as a rather puzzled expression toned her young face.

She sure hoped it wasn't something ugly. Kili smiled wide, his white teeth peaking out, it was like he was hiding something.

"Sigrid of Esgaroth, not very flashy but still, you got a title."

He seemed more exited about the prospect than her. She managed a fond smile. Together they plucked down the laundry and folded it. Her respect for the dwarf increased as he helped her without complaints. He seemed almost enthusiastic but she couldn't help but be suspicious of his reasons. Either he wanted to court her or he just wanted to get her in his bed. Sure Kili was one of the more handsome dwarves but that didn't change the fact that he was too short for her taste. Funnily enough, he was considered ugly according to dwarfish standards.

"Why are you wearing gloves by the way, it's not that cold outside," he remarked with a raised brow as they filled the basket with clothing.

"Um... I just thought they were pretty actually, besides this place hasn't been cleaned in a while and i don't want any dust on me," she lied, smiling a bit bashfully.

He let it go after that and Sigrid was thankful that he didn't ask anything more. They talked for a while, handing out clean clothes to those who needed it. Kili's flirting became more and more subtle and they could actually speak like friends. About their part in the tragedy, their thoughts on the future and even their cultural differences. Needless to say, she got to learn much more about dwarfs and their ways. It was quite charming actually.

They stayed together for another half an hour, Kili telling her of their adventures from Rivendell to the smelly goblin tunnels and she was immersed in his storytelling. As they parted ways he insisted on kissing her hand even through her glove. She couldn't help but blush at that and once more she was left with despairing over the fact that she didn't know how her hints had gone completely over his head... Then again, it's not his fault that she wasn't good at giving hints. Either way, it could just be harmless flirting... nothing to worry too much about.

Living in Erebor gave many advantages, for example: the showers. A roomy space, clad in glazed tile, shining in sapphire. They had a limited use of hot water though so she couldn't waste any time. The ladies bathroom stood empty, which was a relief and she started to undress. However she stopped herself before stepping under the shower head. The ring was still on her finger, shining in a beautiful red. She smiled at the luminous thing. She couldn't shower with it on, it could rust after all. She stepped over to the sinks, planning to put it under her clothes. Suddenly the door slammed open and something small sprinted in. Sigrid went still before draping a towel around her nude form. It was Tilda and her newfound friend Elsa playing tag again and they giggled when they saw her.

"Tilda how many times do i have to tell you not to play in the bathrooms!" she scowled at her, tying the towel in place.

"Sorry, we didn't know you were in here..." she looked at the ground but later her face shone up.

"Will you play with us later?" Her little eyes searched hers and Sigrid was about to respond when she noticed her sister seemed to look elsewhere.

Tilda was staring at the ring she still had on her finger.

"What's that?" Tilda's friend asked innocently, staring at the thing as well.

"Oh it's nothing, just a trinket i found!" Sigrid said as she quickly attempted to take it off. I didn't work though... She must have looked funny, tugging at her ring like mad.

"What in the..." she breathed out as the ring became heated as she practically clawed at it.

Tilda asked her something but she couldn't hear it. Suddenly the ring became so heated it was beginning to hurt and Sigrid watch in horror as her skin turned red, like small flames laid dancing right under her translucent skin. It became harder to breathe and she had never felt so empty inside. Like she had a big cavern in her chest, that became filled up with molten lava. Pain came over her like an unforgiving tsunami. Now she fell to her knees and screamed, her eyes became bloodshot, her throat felt like a stinging, raw wound. It was like she was on fire.

She couldn't see much as everything melted into one blurry picture, her tears burned her cheeks just as much as everything else. Sigrid panicked and she could make out the unclear outline of Tilda as her small form ran to her, reaching out and touching her arm. Sigrid could only tremble and shake as she slid down the floor, she couldn't stop screaming. Her sister joined her screams and she could hardly process it. It hurts, everything hurts, her limbs roasted and burned. Her skin must have melted away at this point and she couldn't form words anymore. She laid twitching, snarling in pain. And Tilda... Tilda!

Elsa stared in stunned silence before running up to her crying friend and dragging her away from Sigrid. Tilda's hand had been burnt badly. It was ugly, red and dripping with blood. The young girls screamed in terror and ran away from there, leaving her behind. Sigrid didn't process anything of it, much too focused on her torment.

**...**

Erebor as well as Dale was in full construction and the Laketown people had taken temporary refuge in the mountain. Thranduil had arrived in a rather small group as if to travel faster. He was only there to pick up something that belonged to him after all. He didn't have to come by himself though, he could've sent someone else. But he wanted to see the ring with his own eyes, just making sure that it was what he thought it was before taking it away. He stood now on the stone rampart with Bard the bowman. They were quietly conversing, the dragonslayer went over the building plans, explaining the details like Thranduil actually cared. He wondered when he would get air to actually tell him the real reason he'd actually ventured to this accursed place. Bard never struck him as a talker but he was apparently proven wrong, sadly enough.

A shrieking noice suddenly reached their ears, bouncing of the walls like an echo. His hand twitched automatically as if to find his sword, an old reflex. His men stiffened up as they watched two small children run down the halls in tears. There truly was nothing more excruciatingly annoying than crying children. Bard sprung into action, running down the stairs and picking up one of the shrieking creatures. Their ear-splitting noises reminded Thranduil of the goblins of the misty mountains.

"Tilda!" the bowman yelled looking at her in horror.

Thranduil came down the steps behind him, noticing that it must be his youngest daughter. She was injured and the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air. It looked like she'd stuck her hand into flames. Bard was running with her to the medics but another shriek could be heard. A noise that he could vaguely recognise. As did Bard but not near as vaguely. He had trouble leaving his youngest daughter in the hands of the medics but in the end he had to run towards the sound. It had to be Sigrid and so Thranduil followed the distraught father, his interest peaked. On the floor of the bathroom, laid the eldest daughter in pain. Her limbs jerked and yanked in unnatural angles, her hoarse howl filled up the room.

Magic was there too, it hung in the air, radiating from her form in waves. The ring on her finger almost blinded him, blood red, like the runes on her skin. She almost looked to be was on fire, red marks danced like flames across her features. Thranduil had never seen anything like it, it was the ring. The ring was causing all this, it lit her up like a firework but she never seemed to catch fire. Bard tried to intervene, running to his tormented child, only to yell and jerk back as he was badly burnt from touching her tearstained face. This intrigued him, the ring wasn't supposed to act this way. So why was it? He decided to do what he could, not really from the kindness of his heart though. He had to figure this out, it seems there was more to the ring than originally thought.

**...**

Pain was everywhere, in her, around her. Holding her and squeezing her in its grasp. The hole in her laid filled to brim with something hot and flaming, pushing against her ribcage. It was moving around inside of her, like great snake, like it had a life of its own. She was afraid that it would burn through her, as if she had acid in lungs... that would explain her inability to breathe. She could not get any sort of air and yet she never seemed to lose consciousness, she could not die. She just screamed and screamed, her shrill voice was never ending. Death was a blessing, it was something merciful that against all odds, against her best wishes, didn't seem to be her fate. She could only cry when her father touched her, she cried from the horror-stricken eyes upon her. There was no peace, no escape. Maybe this was meant to be her fate, to be stuck in a loop of eternal agony. What if it never stopped? When had it even begun? How long had she been in this state? She didn't even know... time had lost its meaning.

The only thing that mattered was the pain. The pain will surely kill her, she would die soon, she had to. Something touched her hand, taking ahold of it. She tried in vain to rip her hand away but it had an iron grip on her wrist, she was too weak at this point. Wasn't she hurting whoever was persistent with touching her? Sigrid slowly forced her eyes opened, she didn't even know she had closed them. A blinding light engulfed her vision. Impossibly bright, pure and white, was she dead already? This shine was all she could see, the rays kissed her smouldering skin, cooling her down, taking the pain away as it caressed and cradled her little body. The burning mass in her chest leaked out of her, like rising smoke, it escaped out through her nose and mouth. She could finally breathe again.

This light... Sigrid had laid her eyes on it before and as it dulled down to reveal a face, she was reminded of its familiarity. Her hand vigorously clutched his own as she was afraid that he would let her go. He still had the scar but he was more beautiful than ever, it was a bit eerie. His skin were like tiny stars and his hair looked like spun silver. His eyes stood out like blue pearls, it was captivating but frightening at the same time. Everyone else looked much like themselves, only a little blurry but Thranduil was like a gem, a lucid moon. He had this uncanny beauty, the kind that she would feel most comfortable with if it was kept at a distance, like it was the sun. It would burn her if it came too close, but she needed its shine to stay alive.

His hand was the anchor to reality and slowly but surely, Sigrid's body became numb. She felt exhausted, like she could sink into the ground, like spilt milk. She hadn't realised that he was talking. She hadn't taken much note to the words, drowning her ears in a pleasant sound.

_"Entulessë ana i arta -o murmë. Entulessë ana i imbë -o dîn. Lom- imlë imi i málos -o sérë. Fainu- imlë ana Heri Estë -ye núta undu mina i núra nénar -o fúmë."_ "Return to the fortress of slumber. Return to the vale of silence. Hide yourself in the forest of rest. Release yourself to Lady Estë and sink down into the deep waters of sleep."

She couldn't understand his words but they were like music to her ears, it sounded like a song. Sweet like honey. She went still, like she'd caught frostbite and now she could only stare at his face, her pupils dilated to the point of where her eyes looked black. She couldn't help but be drawn to him, like she was on a hook. Almost naturally, she sat up without even knowing why or even how she was able to. Shakily and slowly, she found strength to hug him. To reach up and cast her arms around his neck. She breathed out a sigh of relief. After that, she utterly lost the feeling in her muscles but even still, her arms stayed glued around him. Everything went black as her body was forcibly shutting down.

**...**

Enchantments weren't his strongest suit but he was still formidable in the sport, not that it was a normal thing to occupy oneself with nowadays, even for those of his kin. Her arms, latched around his neck felt paper thin, as if they were barely there at all. She gave away a gasp by his ear and he could feel her soft chest moving rapidly as she slipped into unconsciousness. It was now that he became all the more aware of her state of undress. She only had a towel wrapped loosely around her but that was something he tried not to think too much about. He held her as to not let her fall and directed his eyes to the her father. Bard was standing there, wide eyed and pale faced, like he'd seen a something unnatural.

"Take her," he ordered.

The flabbergasted father immediately took her into his arms. He felt strangely cold after her body left his arms, like a chill ran through him. Unnerved, Thranduil stared at the scintillating, red ring, determined not to look at the girl's face.

**Translations: **

"Return to the fortress of slumber. Return to the vale of silence. Hide yourself in the forest of rest. Release yourself to Lady Estë and sink down into the deep waters of sleep."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

Sleep dragged her from one corner of her mind to another. Her head felt heavy, her body weighted down into the soft sheets, like it was tied to bricks. She was sleeping but it was a restless one. Sigrid found herself trapped in dreams of drowning in molten lava, of being tugged from one place to another, being ripped apart and roasted. A picture of herself, running and stumbling around in a burning Laketown. Flames ate everything, climbed every tower and heated the waters to the point of boiling. There were no escape. The poor people that tried to flee the wrath of Smaug would jump into the water, only to melt in the corrosive liquid, their bones were the only thing spared as they floated around in the red ocean. She was in hell.

Tilda had been screaming, crying as they tried to steer their boat to safety, Bain and Da had disappeared and she did not know where to even begin looking for them. They needed to get to safety. The boat could sink at any minute and she almost expected such an outcome. Sigrid saw the faces of people she knew as they burned alive and died in the chaos. Well, maybe she didn't know them as well as she could have. If anything, they were little more than acquaintances as her family stood closest to her. Sure she had a few friends as she grew up but they slipped away from one another with age. As she grew older, she had to take care of the house, of Tilda and Bain... She had to grow up and tend to her duties, she simply didn't have time for friends anymore.

The same thing seemed to have happened to them as well, either that or they married early and underwent much of the same procedure. And so, it was strange and unreal to watch her childhood peers burn alive. People she couldn't even remember the names of, let alone the sound of their laugh... only their screams. Her eyes flickered through the nightmares and she tried to no end to wake up. Sigrid knew she didn't want to end up like them and even though it was a dream... the outcome, the finality of it all might as well be true and it probably was. She hadn't seen any of those acquaintances after the war.

Finally it all seemed to stop and she briefly opened her eyes to see that she was back in her sleeping chamber, deep within the confines of Erebor. It was dark outside and she figured it was all a bad dream, maybe she had a fever. Still as feverish as she may feel, her heart was pounding, her flesh laid covered in goosebumps as she was truthfully chilled to the core. The moon shone through her little window, illuminating her sweaty skin, as she laid in bed and counted her breaths. She counted them until the memories of the dream became more and more fuzzy and unclear. Then, her eyelids became heavy and she blinked a total of three times before slipping blindly into sleep once more, not minding the warm, familiar pulsing coming from her finger.

This time she didn't dream but she probably didn't sleep for very long either. When she awoke again, it was still dark outside, like no time had passed at all. Sigrid slowly sat up in her bed, her sheets rustled quietly. Her muscles ached like she'd been out running. Her memories were still blurry but... from what she could recall, she had a pretty vivid imagination. It must have been a dream... She dragged herself from the bed, feeling strangely hungry, like she was starving. Clumsily, she pulled her nightgown off and looked for some change of clothes.

She eventually settled on simple maroon dress, obviously not dwarfish as it reached down to her heels. Sluggishly, she tied the corset, it was of a rather easy fashion but everything seemed hard at this moment. She was hungry, tired and her limbs felt like mush. She heaved the door open, why was she so weak? Gasping for air, she loitered down the hall, trying to remember the way to the kitchens. Everything laid in shadows only dimly lit by torches. Even through the fire, she felt cold, she should have brought a blanket. Maybe she really had a fever. Sigrid's bare feet patted down the stone and eventually came upon the wide opening to the great hall. Night guards stood about and quietly conversed, mostly dwarves. They paid no mind to her as she tiptoed past them.

Her hands left her freezing arms as se found a pelt blanket, thrown on a chair. It didn't matter whose it was, she was borrowing it for now. Throwing the grey fur around her shoulders, she made her way down a steep staircase and finally came upon a door. The closer to food she got, the more starved she felt. Her stomach hurt and ached and her mouth was run dry. Why hadn't she eaten for so long? Had she even eaten at all? It wasn't like her to skip meals when she had the luxury of having her fill. Not having the energy to think too much about that, she pushed the door open with great difficulty. She had to throw her entire weight over it in order to get it opened.

Once it had a wide enough slit for her to fit through she made herself inside, her hungry eyes finding her goal. Someone had left a plate filled with biscuits on the countertop. She went over to the fridge and took out milk and jam. In mere milliseconds she was helping herself, her pelt slid down to the floor in her hurry to spread jelly over her crispy biscuits. She failed to notice the eyes trailed on her as she picked up her milk and snacks. She started to make her way to the table when she glanced up to see that it was occupied.

"As you can see, my insight is without question," the proud, curt voice broke into her fussed state of hunger and she almost dropped her food.

This was when she realised that her dream hadn't been a dream. She had felt that pain, she had laid on the bathroom floor, roasted in flames. The elven king had been there after all, his light and his scar. He'd talked to her, though she didn't now what he'd said exactly but... it was him! He saved her, he took her pain away. Her saviour... even still... she feared him. He glowed even now, not as blinding as before but he still shimmered with such tense energy. Lethal energy that would cut her if she came too close.

He looked... as kingly as he always did. A simple silver crown with jagged edges like thorns adored his head and his hair flowed loose but still controlled, in line with his appearance. He was seemed to be dressed in a black leather vest and trousers, with green markings spread over the sleeves and collar. A deep copper-coloured cloak was draped around his shoulders, much like the colour of his boots. He looked so elvish. The steel of his sheeted sword caught her eye and she was briefly taken back to the war. Sigrid realised she was just standing there, stupidly staring at the elven king with milk and cookies in her hands.

Her father sat by the elf's side, looking worried and uncomfortable at the same time. She was relieved to se that she wasn't alone with the imposing king. Still, she knew who she had to thank... she knew now, what a wolf in sheeps clothing this ring was. Trembling, she slowly placed her forgotten food on the table. Sigrid was scared yes, but she forced her feet forward and shakily kneeled at Thranduil's feet.

"Sire, my king... I-i thank you for saving me," she choked on the last word, her voice cracking as pathetic tears escaped her eyes.

Sigrid wasn't one to kneel for anything, but he had saved her life from eternal torture, it still so fresh in her mind. She focused her gaze on the stone floor as her fingers slowly traced the ring, she couldn't even twirl it... it was completely stuck.

"Do you know what this ring is?" she asked him, standing once more and gathering courage to meet his one blue eye, doing her best not to stare at his other clouded and white one.

His blind eye reminded her of the ashes of Dale, flying around in a frenzied storm. In the end, the evening stood late though not yet midnight. Sigrid sat with her pelts around her, still cold and hungry but she refused to eat at this moment. Her biscuits would have to wait.

"I take it you found it in Dale." Thranduil's voice cut out as he fixed his gaze on her.

"I... yes, yes i did."

She locked at the ring, it sat plastered around her finger. Her fingers looked too slender and her knuckles seemed strangely structured, like the skin around her bones sat too tight and too thin. She swallowed thickly and looked back up, meeting her father's mocha eyes. He looked older, more weary than before. She teared her gaze away and turned it towards the elf by his side.

"The ring is called Carnimírë or Red Jewel in westron. It is an heirloom of my family that went missing long before my father founded the Woodland realm. Sigrid eyes turned a fraction wider as she took in the information. She carried a royal heritage.

"I originally came here to reclaim it but... complications arose," he said tensely, his eyes never leaving hers.

She looked down in shame... it felt like everything was her fault, though she had no control over what had happened.

"But the ring is not supposed to act like that," Da said then, "From what you've told me, it could only see through illusions and heal wounds at best."

Bard leaned forward, leaning on his elbows as his eyes went back and forth between the elven king and his daughter. Sigrid realised they must have been seated here for quite some time, talking whilst she laid unconscious.

"I knew it was magical..." she nearly whispered out, trailing the fiery trinket with the tip of her finger.

"However, i can't get it off, it's stuck..." she continued, looking up at the men before her, "And when i tried... really tried, it-" Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes shut as the horrid memory flashed before her shut eyes. Swallowing once again, trying not to think too much of it.

"You are quite right... It has never reacted that way before, it doesn't even have any known offensive qualities... but there is always a reason for everything." Thranduil stood up then and Sigrid took in the fact that he was probably the tallest person she'd everseen... then again he was an elf.

"I shall ride to exchange words with another ring bearer, someone who will have the knowledge and experience of the nature of magic rings." He put on his dark gloves and briefly looked down at Sigrid. "I think it would wise for Lady Sigrid to come with me, in order to be properly examined by my kin. The ring seems to have bound itself to her, something we should be keenly aware of."

She sat glued to her chair, staring up at the king. She didn't know what to say to that other than to stiffly nod her head. Her father didn't stay quiet though.

"With all due respect, I cannot let your people just take her away. If that's the case then i should come with you, it is my daughter after all," he strongly stated, low but firm in his stance.

Discomfort started to churn in her stomach as she took in Thranduil's almost blank stare. A coldness creeped over his luminous features, like a chilled ice block.

"The ring is my property and you seem to forget who you are, bowman," the title was almost hissed out. "You are a leader now, not an overly emotional fisherman. Not only are you needed here by your people but also by your other children. To leave them now in this crisis would be beyond foolish."

"Do not lecture me on what i am most aware of and the ring may be yours but Sigrid is far from your property," her father bit out and she had rarely seen him so angry before, his face was all red.

It was like a storm was brewing between them and Thranduil gave him an askew smirk, a not so friendly one. Like the smile of a shark. "Oh but there is not much difference between the two. The ring sealed itself to her with elvish magic, which is why i must take her to my kin. Besides, we shall ride throughout the night with very little rest. We will not have time to adapt to your needs, my people are more durable when it comes to such journeys and that's that."

"If that's the case, then why would you take her with you, wouldn't she slow you down?" Da seethed quietly.

"I have already stated my reasons. The girl won't have her own horse to manage. I predict the ride will take about three days at most. We will follow the forest river and then onwards on the path to Rivendell. I have already sent word to Lord Elrond of our arrival." He had already made his decision it seemed.

Sigrid decided to jump in now because her father face just grew more and more sour. She rose from her seat and walked up the bowman. "Da, I know you are worried but i will be fine," she tried, putting her hand to his bearded cheek and the other to his arm. "We will need all the help we can get, we still know so little of this ring. Surely i would be worse off without King Thranduil's and his kin's input."

Her father seemed to calm down at that. He was a rational person, he really was... but his love for her may have gotten in the way of his otherwise clear-cut mindset.

"Eat, Sigrid... You'll need it." He placed his hand over hers and closed his eyes.

That's when she realised it was heavily bandaged, both his hands were... The realisation hit her like a train wreck. It was a low whine at first but later on, she stood bawling into her fathers arms. She'd hurt them... him and little Tilda. Their skin were burnt away because of her. Da let her ruin his shirt with her sobs, smothering the sound as he held her close and thus another realisation hit her. She didn't really want to leave him.

**...**

Tilda was asleep. Slumbering deeply and dreamless it seemed. At least she had that going for her... A pair of somber eyes traveled down to her bandaged hand and tears formed in them as a consequence. It was her fault, she knew that. The truth was a heavy burden, so heavy she thought she might break. How was she ever going to face her sister again? Tilda would be terrified of her, she would have nightmares about her... maybe it was relief to be taken away... They were to depart within the next ten minutes or so, riding fast towards Thranduil's halls where they would change horses and rest before setting out towards Rivendell. Sigrid would have been excited about the prospect of going out and about in the world. She would have, if the circumstances were different. Now she could only regret everything there is to regret. More bitter tears escaped her eyes and, shakily, she reached up and slowly wiped them away.

"It wasn't your fault, Sigrid..." Bain broke the silence as he sat by her side in his night clothes.

She'd accidentally roused him from his sleep as she was trying to bid him farewell. She figured it would be easier to say goodbye when they were asleep but her brother was a very light sleeper.

"It's that bloody ring and i'm glad they are doing something about it but i still don't understand why you have to go with the elves." It seemed he was not done talking. At least he whispered, which was appreciated.

"It's elvish magic, they are the best people i could hope for," she tiredly croaked back, she reached out her hand but did not dare to touch the slumbering figure.

Instead she merely adjusted her blanket as it had curved itself in a odd shape. Tilda did move around a lot in her sleep... Full of that childish energy, even in a slumbering state.

"Come, I don't want her to wake..." Sigrid whispered out as she looked away from Tilda's flushed and slackened face. She stood up and briefly tugged a little at Bain's shirt before he silently followed her out. They walked down the hallway and Sigrid hugged her cloak closer to herself even though she wasn't cold anymore. They walked in silence until they came upon the great hall.

"If anything happens... we will come for you, sis."

She turned to him with concealed surprise. It wasn't often Bain showed such emotions, not that he was cold hearted, he just tended to kept his more empathetic feelings private. He tried very hard to look like knight in that instant, puffing up his chest. She gave him a sad smile, she was going to miss him... but it won't be for that long, maybe some weeks at best.

"Take care of Da and Tilda for me. Don't worry brother, You will not have to come for my rescue, i can assure you of that." She hugged him tight, kissing his curly hair.

She tried not to cry more but it was hard when she later bid her father goodbye. She had hurt him too after all. So tears escaped once more as she hugged him, his bandaged hands holding her in his arms. As they walked out into the night, Sigrid couldn't help but facing the question of what she'd gotten herself into. She deeply regrets picking up the ring now. Looking around, she noticed the dwarves Fili and Kili and their kin, lined up like they were going to war. They stared hard at the elves who were already mounting their horses. The elven king stood, briefly speaking with his men before turning to her.

"Come," was all he said as he reached out his hand to her. This was when Kili noticed her.

"Wait, why is Lady Sigrid going with them?" he outrightly asked with wide, angry eyes.

His brother turned to him, looking just as confused, but for different reasons. "Have you been sleeping under a rock for the past hours? You know full well why."

"I have been out with the hunting party, we just got back half an hour ago and there's a bunch of elves running around. I thought he was merely here to speak with Bard!"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were going hunting!? I would have come with you," Fili cut back and the two dwarfs kept on bickering like the stubborn kind they were.

Sigrid heaved a sigh, Thranduil seemed to run out of patience as his jaw clenched with irritation. She quickly stepped forward and took his hand, it wasn't an easy thing to do. Shyness didn't even begin to describe it, though she didn't quite fear the elf anymore. She couldn't help but to stifle a gasp as his fingers closed in around her hand, it was swallowed up by his larger one. Her ring started to pulse rapidly again and she was petrified by the idea that she might go through that torment again. She bit her lip and kept her mouth shut, now was not the time to panic.

Hopefully, she could slip away without Kili noticing, he was sure to make a scene. Thranduil's hand clenched around hers and she would have felt pain if the numbness didn't creep all the way up to her elbow. It was a pleasant warmth but it didn't change the fact that the ring still felt cursed. She let herself be dragged away towards a horse, a large, dark animal that melted into the shadows. She was nervous.

"-but where are they taking her? Hey!" Kili took a step forward, like he was ready to run to her.

Her father put a hand on his shoulder before he could do anything though. "The elves are here to help her, it is for her own good," he told the prince, looking down at him with a grim expression.

Kili wasn't very happy with that, if anything he took it as something offensive. "What can they do that we cannot?" he exclaimed with bewildered look.

Her father said something in return but she couldn't hear it as large hands settled themselves on her waist. "Eeeh," was all she got out as she was lifted in the air and put on the massive horse. She was struck by how strong the elven king was, handling her like she weighted no more than a feather. She had never ridden before... after all, the Laketown people never had much use of horses as they did with their boats.

"I can't ride!" she frantically yelled, clutching the horse's mane as to not fall off. It was seemed so high up.

Thranduil didn't grace her with a response, instead he swiftly mounted the horse as well, taking the reins and effectively caging her in his arms. She tensed up from their close proximity, her cheeks burning as his hair grazed her nape. He seemed so... weightless but at the same time sturdy like a stone wall. The hard chest behind her indicated that much. She could hear voices rising around her, mostly the dwarves who were not done complaining about the elves presence.

Sigrid looked down in shame, she didn't want to meet anyone's eyes at this moment. She suddenly felt a hand draped over her waist and heat filled her up to the core. It was the ring's doing, it had never stopped with its relentless pulsing but... it seemed to be reacting strangely.

"Let men nor-" Thranduil's voice boomed out behind her, strict and commanding.

She didn't know what he'd said but had a fair guess as the elves around them started to ride hard and fast over the grass. She felt the horse move under her and panicked, she clutched Thranduil's arm around her waist, not really thinking too hard on the matter. His hand was only there to steady her after all. They were riding hard now, flying over the ground and her hair got itself loose. She tried to turn around, to look back but no matter how much she arched her body sideways, she could not see Erebor, neither her kin or the dwarves. The only thing she could make out in the dark was the rising, cloudy top of the lonely mountain. She gasped and yelped as they jumped over a log, passing the construction of Dale.

It was so fast, like they were soaring through the air. Her skirts flew around, looking ghostly in the night. She did her best not to make a fuss that may disturb the ancient behind her. Sigrid let out a breath and let go of his arm to grip the saddle beneath her. She leaned slightly back and looked up on the sky. She tried to think of merrier times, to pretend that she wasn't running straight into the troubled unknown. The stars gleamed down at her, shining just as brightly as the elf behind her. She tried to ignore the fact that she felt bare and vulnerable without her family by her side. She have to learn to stand on her own two feet... not that she couldn't or anything. She was just unstable on that front but just like at the war, she needed to find that independent part of herself. Or anything could happen.

**Translations:** _"Let us ride"._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

He never liked Elrond that much, his overly friendliness and habit of sticking his nose in places where it didn't belong, dried out his patience. Not that Thranduil had much of it in the first place. The fact that he was now forced to seek his... knowledge, left a foul taste in his mouth. He could've went to Lady Galadriel but he couldn't be bothered to ride that far and besides, chances were good that the Lady would be in Rivendell as well, seeing as she had a ludicrous fondness for the place. It was formidable yes, but not in Thranduil's tastes. But it was all worth the trouble of seeing his annoying kinsmen again. To think that he had after all this time, found the ring again, the ring that had slipped his mind. It seemed something was going his way.

Well, except for the fact that it had apparently seen it fit to tie itself to a mortal girl... Said girl was asleep, resting her head on his arm. He didn't like the intimacy but he had to remind himself that he was doing this for a very good reason. The ring had potential, it was something special... that much was obvious from the drama in Erebor. He had to keep it close, after all it was his family's property, therefore his. She twitched in her sleep, her head falling to the side and Thranduil thought she might wake but then the ring acted up again. It sends out heat waves, soothing ones that seemingly lulled her to sleep. It had an effect on him, he just couldn't figure out what that was exactly. He felt calm but not unfocused, warm but only mildly so. Pleasingly so.

He had to consider the worst possible scenario, that the ring couldn't be separated from her. Then what? He couldn't just hand her over to the Laketown people - soon to be the people of Dale. If the ring and the girl was one and the same then her place would be in the woodland realm, as undesirable it would be to have mere mortal there but then she would be much more than that. But that was only if the two couldn't be separated, he just had to hope for the best. She twitched again, mumbling in her sleep and he was relieved to see that they were nearing his kingdom. There they would rest and at dawn they would be on their way again. The girl would be dropped off at his guest chambers, carefully guarded of course.

**...**

She awoke with a silent scream, staring in alarm at the elf standing by her bed. She have had the nerve to kick her bed. The elleth had a platter of food in her hands. She had long brown hair, cascading down her chest with small blue flowers, attached to the locks. The blue matched her dress which reminded Sigrid of a flowing river. Even though she was beautiful, she couldn't help but feel angry at the female for her rudeness. She could have just kindly shook her little... not kick her bed. The bed actually moved a bit from the force, the elven strength never seized to amaze her.

Sigrid knew now where she had to be... The woodland realm, Thranduil's palace. It made sense from the fashion of the room, not too big but still beautiful. White walls, carved into the shape of trees and branches. The sun made the room glow, making her silken sheets gleam in a faint pink hue.

"When did we arrive here?" She sat up, trying to make sense of the fuzzy memories. All she could remember was riding in the night.

"Late last night. You must be ready within half an hour," the elf tonelessly said, putting the plate down on the writing table before exiting with a sneer.

"What did i ever do to her...," Sigrid mumbled to herself.

She didn't remember how she got here but she most likely just fell asleep and was dumped here when they arrived. She glanced out the window, noticing that it must be in the early hours, explaining why she still felt so tired. Her dress felt messy as she'd slept in it. She really needed a change of clothes. Dragging herself from the bed, she noticed her hips and thighs felt numb and stiff. Probably from riding for so long, the numbness which came from the ring, didn't take away her stiffness.

Sluggishly taking off her dress, she opened the closet to see a couple of elvish dresses. Her eye caught a dark green one, not as formal as the others and it looked fairly flexible. It even had a hood, perfect for traveling. She dressed quickly, it wasn't that thick so she dressed in her cloak as well. The dark shades of blue and green matching together. She quite liked it, though she needed to do something about her hair, it stood in knots. She brushed it out until it looked acceptable, then she put it away in a bun. Sigrid looked to the palette of fruits, salad, meat, cheese and bread. She picked up a glass of orange juice, taking a sip, she decided to eat quickly in case they needed to leave earlier. She was right in her assumption.

She was halfway through her meal when two elves barged in, dressed in their respective riding gear. She jumped, startled by their entrance and quickly swallowed the strawberry she had in her mouth.

"We need to leave now," one of the elves said, a handsome blonde one with brown eyes.

"I... i need to wash myself first..." she said, rising from the cushions.

"Don't take too long," the other elf answered, one with auburn hair and green eyes. He actually half-smiled at her and it gave her bit of relief.

"Of course..."

She lightly jogged to the bathroom, washing out her mouth with a bottle of elvish dental hygiene. Its strong taste of mint nearly burned her tongue. Later on, as she walked the halls with her escorts, she couldn't help but be struck with homesickness. These magnificent halls with their large windows and spotless, shimmering marble - was not her home. Truthfully, her true home was burnt to ground, now her home was strictly where her family was. She'd been away for only about a day and she already missed her family... Sigrid pulled her hood over her head, not standing the stares she got from the elves they passed by. She was led down a set of wide stairs and they suddenly came upon a big gate, adored and carved with thorns and leaves of a shining emerald.

The large doors opened and they entered a wide backyard, littered with horses and elves. The breeze whipped her hood from her face and she took in the forest looming before them. The trees closest to them looked healthy and young whilst those behind looked dead and rotten. They wouldn't ride through Mirkwood would they? Sigrid kept her eyes on the forest, it seemed as if something was moving in there, shadows creeping about. It was something dark, something malicious and malevolent. She could feel it, reaching out to her as if it meant to grasp her and take her away.

She took a step backwards, her eyes fixed on the dark trees, it was as if they were moving... Unrooting themselves and decaying the still healthy trees and slowly came towards her. She backed away further and slammed into a wall. Confused, she turned around, to see Thranduil staring down at her. She automatically recoiled at his scarred appearance before rapidly turned around to look back at the forest. It looked normal, nothing was moving, nothing was growing.

"What..." she stammered out, looking back at the King.

Sigrid moved away from him, she must look crazy. Had she really imagined it all?

"What did you see?" he suddenly asked, curt as he gripped her shoulder, leading her away through the horses.

His fingers dug into her dress and prickling her skin. She twisted away from him only to have his hand delve further into her lower back, his nails pointed like claws. A spike of pain suddenly ran up her waist and she yelped, holding her side. It seemed to come from nowhere, why would it hurt? She had the ring on her, it shouldn't hurt at all. His fingers dug into her some more, obviously spurred on by her distress. A tear escaped her eye as she glanced up at him with a hurt look, an angry frown on her red face.

"You will tell me soon enough then, Bardsdottir," he hissed in her ear, before pushing her towards the black horse she'd sat upon previously.

She put her hands on the horse, wishing it could go away so she could run from this place. Her feet left the ground as she was lifted into the air by his hands, holding her waist like it was but air. She held back a gasp as he then threw her up on the horse, she clutched the mane and bit her lip. She didn't feel any pain from her lower lip now so why did she feel pain before? It didn't make sense. She barely noticed as he mounted up behind her. Just like before he put his hand around her waist, keeping her in place before they set off, following the forest river.

Their party rode much faster now and Sigrid could hardly keep herself still. She flew with the horse's strong movements, trying to keep her hands locked in his mane. She would've fallen off if she hadn't been plastered to Thranduil's side. There were about twenty men, all traveling at high speed along the river, dodging trees like they were mere flies. She dozed off from time to time, she really didn't have anything better to do. When she was awake, she could only think back to when her ring seemingly malfunctioned. She thought she wasn't as afraid of the elven king as before but now, that fear came creeping back to her from the earlier events. She blinked and noticed that the scenery had changed, now the sun stood high on the sky and they were passing the river Anduin with the Mirkwood forest on their other side.

She could remember the landmarks well from the old maps her father kept around the house, maps that had once belonged to her grandfather. Sigrid barely glanced at the cursed forest, she didn't want to relive that experience any time soon. She had to focus her eyes on the blue skies lest they wander off. Somewhere in the afternoon, the horses came to a stop. They had just crossed Anduin via the stone bridge and the company was dismounting and digging around in their respective bags and pouches. Finally, she could stretch her legs, if she could feel them. Just like in the morning, numbness reached down her thighs and legs, along with a unpleasant stiffness. She winced as Thranduil dismounted behind her.

"We will rest for about 20 minutes so don't wander off," he said, leading the horse to the edge of the still river.

She frantically gripped the saddle as the horse bent down for a drink, it didn't stop her from falling though. The fact that she couldn't feel much of her legs along with the absence of Thranduil's body to lean on, left her to fall to the side with a choked gasp. A hand grasped her thigh before she could fall off the horse and swung her back up. Thranduil looked annoyed at her juvenile inexperience and with a raised brow, he placed an arm around her and carried her down from the big animal. Her ring pulsed rapidly in response to his touch and Sigrid clenched her fist, trying to hide the fact that the red shone brighter than before.

"Can you stand?" he asked as he slowly let go of her small form, only coming up to just below his chest.

"I'm not sure," she responded.

She was holding on to him for more than a little support and when she forced herself to let him go, she only lasted a second before stumbling to the ground, holding her hip. Sigrid bit her cheek and meekly stared up at Thranduil, standing tall over her slumped figure. He seemed to hiss something in elvish before bending down and picking her up. Probably some ancient curse word. The ring heated up again as he threw her over his shoulder and Sigrid bit back an insult. He didn't have the right to treat her like a sack of potatoes. He brought a bag with him, hanging from the horse's saddle and wandered away towards a rock.

"You will rest here until your strength has returned." He sat her down so she was leaning against the rock and put the sack in her arms. "Maybe then you will feel strong enough to tell me what you saw earlier in Mirkwood." He gave her a crooked, taut sneer as he bent down and loosened her hair from it's bun.

She sat frozen and stared at him with an absurd look on her face. Why did he do that? She tried to keep her eyes on anything other than his scar but it was hard when he was so close to her. "I-I can tell you now," she started, taking a deep breath. "The trees were rotting... Decomposing and infecting the still healthy ones. It's hard to describe... It looked like they were moving towards me and... I just had this terrible feeling," she hoarsely whispered out, growing more and more anxious.

He stared, fixed at her face, at times she thought his gaze wandered down to her mouth but it could have been a trick of the light. Her lips was torn from her biting too much on them so it must be an ugly sight. Sigrid, felt her cheeks burn and looked away from the elf, trying to hide her mouth behind her hair.

"It's nothing right?" she tried, glancing up at him.

"It's the ring, letting you see the manifestation of darkness, you need to tell me henceforth if you see anything more," he said in one breath, looking between her and the ring on her finger.

He stood up then and turned around. He'd just managed to walk a few feet away from her when she couldn't help herself. "What happened to your face?"

He stopped and stood still like a statue. Then he slowly turned around to her, only his scarred side visible.

"I never considered the fact that you may see it, i hide it with an elvish illusion. Once we get to Rivendell, you will learn how to accept or dispel illusions at will, what you're doing right now is peeking under them. It seems as if you are doing so automatically, something that will be corrected as well."

She blinked and nodded and then watched as he turned around and disappeared amongst the horses. He had completely dodged her question. ... In the little bag, she found Lembas bread and water. The Lembas tasted sweet in her mouth. She had eaten it before as it was one of the many provisions the elves brought with them to Dale when they'd just sought refuge i the ruins. One bite was enough but she settled with two as it was just that good. Drinking some of the water, she could feel her legs coming back to life again, the Lembas doing its magic. They still felt a bit stiff but they weren't numb anymore, which means that they didn't hurt no more. After all, numbness meant pain, pain she couldn't feel.

Sigrid took in the splendour that was the misty mountains, towering up in the distance. She couldn't make out the top of mountain range for it stood covered in the famous mist that gleamed as the last bit of the sun rays peeked out behind it. Looking behind her, she could see a small forest, big enough to hide in. A good spot for her to relieve herself. Leaving behind the bag, she slowly rose up, testing her legs. They seemed to work fine and with that she stepped into the forest, looking for some privacy. It was thick with bushes and trees which shrouded her from sight. She walked deeper into the forest, trying not to step on any lose stones.

After doing her business, she began to make her way back. She'd spied a hand sanitiser somewhere in that bag... So Sigrid made her way in peace until a branch snapped ahead of her. She looked up to see a man stepping out behind a tree. A tall, bald one, she wouldn't call him fat but he did have noticeable shapes. He was dressed in dark cloth and leather and her head whipped around as leaves rustled behind her. Another man, smaller, hiding in a cloak with blue eyes peeking out. She looked between the two, an uneasy dread creeped up her spine, did they want trouble?

"Are you lost?" she cautiously asked.

They weren't lost. No, they were right were they wanted to be. She took a step back as they both closed in on her. Then they went into full on sprint, coming towards her from two sides. She hauled herself backwards, falling into a bush. Clumsily she got to her feet but a foot placed itself upon her back and she was headfirst into the ground. A scream wrenched itself free from her throat and it seemed to echo around the trees. She kept on her yelling until a hand pressed down on her lips, holding her jaw like they meant to break it. The elves must have heard her, they must have, she didn't wander that far.

"I say we cut off her fingers now, those elves will be upon us soon," a gruff voice said above her, probably the owner of the smelly hand over her mouth.

"Ye right, they said they wanted the ring, not the girl," The cloaked man standing by her head answered.

Tears clouded her eyes and she felt as if she might vomit. She froze up in fright, sobbing into the imposing hand. Her heart pounded in her eardrums and cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She could hardly think straight from the searing panic and as the cloaked man grabbed her hand, the one with the ring on, something snapped. She bit down on the hand, the stinky flesh made her want to recoil but instead she clamped down until the man screamed in pain. She tasted copper in her mouth and... something else. Spitting it out she realised she'd just severed his thumb and for that she received a blow to her head. She laid in the dirt, her ears ringing and her gaze blurry.

The men shouted something and as she felt something touch her hand again, a heated wave came over her. Sigrid had once again a hole in her chest, a cavern built into her ribcage. It wasn't empty though. Some warm mass churned and swirled around in her and it bolted through her bloodstream. Her being pulsed. Now one of the men screamed a bloodcurdling shriek as he stapled away from her. Sigrid weakly glanced at her arm to the red marks, swaying like flames, were once more covering her skin. The foot at her back had left her, no one was touching her anymore.

She slowly rose up to see the cloaked man writhing on the ground, holding his hand. His companion was much the same, crying as he stared at his burned-through foot. The smell of burnt flesh reached her nostrils and she had to get away, she had to run from here or she would surely puke. Sigrid stumbled to her feet and dashed through the bushes and trees. Her body numbed with warmth as she sprinted away, much like on the battlefield. She didn't know how far she managed to flee before she fell to her knees and puked in a nearby flowerbed. Throwing up had always been one of the worst possible things in life, at least it always felt like that when she was in the middle of the act. Wiping her mouth she strived to get as far away from her vomit as physically possible. The smell of burnt flesh, the deranged sound of their screams and the taste of flesh in her mouth, stood still fresh in her memories, she figured she could outrun it all. And so she did, or tried to at least.

She ran, twigs clawing at her skin and hair, her feet jumping and landing without feeling and in the end she found herself out of the little forest and into the open. A great landscape of grass and rocks, spread out before her. In the distance, the river Anduin flowed by but she didn't see the stone bridge. She couldn't be that far. Her knees gave away and she sat down in the dirtied grass. Taking a look at her hands, she deduced that her skin still glowed with red. Trembling, she hugged herself because there was no Da here to do it for her. Caving into herself, she cried, cursing everything from her own stupidity to the sky above her head. She sniffed feeling the warmth quietly, rather suddenly - leaking out of her, like a rising smoke, washing her away almost. It was like a river flowed in her, taking the hardships away, taking the numbness away... But pain never came in its place.

Sigrid opened her eyes, not so sure when she'd closed them. She looked down on her hands, the red marks faded away, sinking into her skin and leaving behind unharmed skin. Sigrid was pretty darn sure she had gotten away with cuts on them. She had received a hard blow to her head as well but she couldn't feel any aftermath of it, nothing of that expected numbness. It was like it hadn't happened. Her limbs didn't even feel any tire from running around like a wild deer either. Sigrid sat there and decided that she would not move. The elves cannot be far behind, they'll find her eventually. So she stayed put until then. She was much too shaken and tired to be confused at the moment. Slowly, she focused on her breathing and tried to distance herself from the situation as much as possible.

**...**

He stared at the yellowed paper one of the men have had on them. It was obviously written in black speech. Needless to say, Thranduil hadn't cared much for educating himself on the language, luckily Lord Elrond could probably unveil its message. Once his party realised that Sigrid was missing their search began just as the two men screamed from the woods. How fitting. Their burns matched the ones Sigrid had given back in Erebor and it didn't take much to put two and two together. She had obviously been attacked. He left some of his men to interrogate the captives whilst he himself lead on the rest to look for the wretched girl. It didn't take long to find her curled into a pathetic ball by the end of the forest. She was obviously quite shaken and he could see several trails of tears on her damp cheeks.

"Are you done crying?"

The girl snapped her head to him. Stepping down from his horse, he lead it towards her. Sigrid shakily stood up, fixing him with what looked like a glare.

"They tried to kill me," she heaved out almost accusingly.

"Well, you're not dead are you? Besides, chances are good they wanted to take your ring and not your life." He raised an eyebrow and took ahold of her arm, strangely enough, he felt her relax against him.

"If only you would have obeyed me none of this would've happened," he said in her ear as he helped her up one the horse.

She looked like she wanted to retort but instead kept her silence, bowing her head, probably to hide her bloodshot eyes. Good girl. In truth, he was bloody annoyed at her antics, she wouldn't have to go through this if she'd just stayed where she was. His thoughts were interrupted by the the stomping of hooves, galloping closer as the rest of his men returned.

"My king, we have interrogated the men and deposed of them," one of his captains said as his horse strolled to a halt. Thranduil fixed the man with a expectant look as he adjusted his gloves. "They've had orders to receive the ring and bring it back to Gundaband. It's probably more detailed in the note we found," the elf said in one breath.

"Most likely. We shall ride on until we reach Rivendell, no breaks," was his only answer as he mounted up behind the sullen Sigrid.

She twitched at his touch but stayed put with her head leaning on his chest. He found himself not as bothered by the proximity as much as before but that didn't make the child any less annoying.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

They had just arrived at the entrance of Rivendell and stood now at a large oval shaped platform. Luckily it had railings. Thranduil helped her down from the horse and she decidedly avoided eye contact with everyone around her. She didn't want to stand out too much. The Elvenking merely told her to stay put like she was but a dog before joining in with the crowd of elves and horses. Everyone seemed to be busy with unpacking the horses and apparently greeting the Rivendell elves. The elves seemed to know each other well and the King was no exception. She observed as he was flocked with no doubt nobles, eager to shake his hand. Good. She now had a chance to slip away and catch her breath.

Earlier, she had trouble breathing correctly as they passed over the long and incredible thin bridge, situated over the great ravine that almost seemed to cage Rivendell. That bridge hadn't had any railings at all and it didn't help that Thranduil thought it necessary to ride the horse in a terrifyingly fast and unruly trot over the obvious death trap. She may not know much about horses but she knew that they definitely shouldn't be trotting about in such circumstances. Sigrid shook her head, as a semi-serious attempt to ward off her growing headache. She had elected to keep her eyes closed on their way over the bridge of doom and so she had missed out on the details. The details of the wonder that now hindered her attempts at stabilising her breath. The wonder that laid before her eyes.

Elvish structures were something special... Clean, pure, elegant and ancient. Precisely everything that Sigrid could never be herself and as the only human there... she felt painstakingly out of place. That uncanny feeling of alienation prompted her to move even further away from the group, her eyes scanning and taking in every stunning detail she could. She was much too awestruck to really let her discomfort ruin her mood. Sigrid hadn't gotten a good look at Rivendell before. The city had first started to reveal itself little by little amidst the fog, once they'd passed the crooked road through the Misty Mountains. She first believed it to be much smaller than what it actually is but as she now came to realise, she was way off the mark. Not only is the city larger than expected, it actually continued into the mountains.

Strangely enough, it looked so natural, as if the city was a great white tree and the mountains were its rightful piece of earth to stick its roots into. The mountain-city was built and constructed to have several floors with many carved balcony-like hallways, stone platforms, stairs, bridges, tunnels and probably much more that she couldn't see. There were even neatly dug-out wide courtyards for the market-place and for what she presumed to be several homes of the elves. The large mountain stood occupied with the same ivory buildings as the rest of the city and it didn't even look remotely crowded. Large bridges and roads lead right into the mountain and out across the other side of one of the larger waterfalls.

It reminded her faintly of Erebor but the concepts and the designs were vastly different. It couldn't even be compared. Traditional elvish craftsmanship coupled with dwarfish craftsmanship seemed worlds apart at that moment but she wouldn't dare to actually decide on which one is superior. It just feels kind of pointless. The whole city shimmered in blue and yellow lantern lights, the lights seemed to be especially necessary in the mountain-area of the city and she could clearly see that elves were as active as any hard-working folk, if not more so. Sigrid turned around and continued to inspect Rivendell. She realised that the name couldn't be more fitting. The great mountains that surrounded the elven city, had numerous, tremendous waterfalls running down its slope hills, surrounding the city in its splendour.

Obviously the elves hadn't built anything too close to the rushing waters, in that case, safety seemed to be quite the necessity. Nevertheless, The waterfalls then gathered themselves into large rivers running beneath and in-between the elvish structures of which she currently stood on. The city looked to be built in accordance to the rushing waters, catching and leading the current underneath several bridges and domes. She was utterly fascinated and she couldn't stop herself from leaning a bit over the stone railing, her previous fears as good as forgotten. She wanted to watch as the rivers running through Rivendell went over the edge of the gigantic and steep ravine that sat at the city's heels.

Sigrid, who wanted too see how deep the abyss was, realised that she would have to do that some other time since it was way too overshadowed and foggy to really make out anything at all. A crescent moon peeked down at the elvish construction, the mist around the mountains shone up in an ethereal glow and the lanterns of Rivendell stood out like small discoloured and blurry stars. Everything looked so dreamy, so perfect and alluring and Sigrid wanted to shy away in shame. She didn't belong here, though she somewhat wished she did.

The evening was still young but she only wanted to sleep, no matter what. It had to be around around eight o'clock or so. She normally didn't go the bed at this time but the whole day had been a taxing. The mental images of those men, ugly, smelly brutes, laid still fresh in her mind. Wanting to hurt her, wanting to take the ring. A part of her was so tired of it all, a part of her had wanted to let them take the damn trinket... But it was like she didn't have a will of her own, like the ring wanted something else and it kept on poisoning her mind. Looking away from the mist-filled ravine, Sigrid accidentally met the eyes of one frustrated Thranduil. She morbidly thought of flinging herself from the cliffside as she watched him walk over to her.

"I see you are free from your fans, my king."

He raised a brow at her comment and took his place at her side, leaning on the railing, a bit away from her.

"Your observational skills are truly out of this world dear, but i wouldn't call them my fans, they are more like leeches" he answered, keeping his eyes on the commotion that was still going on.

More elves had arrived to handle their horses and she knew that they would probably move soon. She was right, as a company of Rivendell elves arrived, just as another company started to lead their horses away. Thranduil went forward to greet them, gesturing her to follow him. They walked in silence and she kept her head nestled in her hood. She had elves on either side of her as they walked in group of maybe fifteen people. They passed stairwell after stairwell, bridge after bridge. I until they came upon an outdoors hallway, wide and long, decorated with elven statues. The hallway lead out into a big courtyard which had a relatively big temple-like structure at its base.

This is where their company scattered as everyone but herself and the king, promptly turned right. She watched as they elegantly walked away, ascending a couple of stairs and disappearing from view. She followed Thranduil as they stepped inside the temple, taking in the large oval room with a polished stone table in the centre. A man and woman stood there, the woman stood turned away at a small terrace and the man had some sort of document in his hands. He looked up from his work and a polite smile grazed his elvish features.

"My friend, you arrived earlier than expected but i am glad nonetheless," He said, briefly casting his eyes over Sigrid's subtle figure as she stood slightly behind the elves before her.

His eyes were dark blue and his hair had a mocha brown colour to it. His navy blue robes melted in with the environment, illuminating his face.

"I trust the journey was without complications?" the elf continued as he stood before them.

"Not quite," Thranduil answered and turned to her. "Sigrid here, was ambushed by two men earlier this day and they carried this."

He pulled out a rolled up letter of some sort and handed it over to who she presumed to be Lord Elrond. He opened it with a small frown that slowly gave away to become two raised brows. He didn't say anything though and as he locked back up at Thranduil, a serious aura stretched out around them.

"Let's sit down and discuss this in private."

Sigrid looked around, confused as she leaned on a stone pillar, did they mean for her to go away now?

Lord Elrond once again looked at her, walking over to her, he stretched out his large hand. "Lady Sigrid, I'm afraid i haven't formally introduced myself." A gentle smile lit up his face as she slowly shook his outstretched hand. "I am Elrond and i welcome you to stay at Rivendell for as long you may need. I'll have you know that you are perfectly safe here, no harm will come to you."

"I- ...thank you, my lord..." she forced out, holding back a yawn which painstakingly caused her to stutter like a fool.

She felt like she was being disrespectful but she really was tired, very tired. Something Lord Elrond noticed. "You must be tired from the journey, i'll have someone escort you to your room for the night. We will discuss your matter first thing tomorrow."

She blinked and nodded dumbly.

"I can take her," a voice broke out, like it was singing, a gentle, aerial tune, flowing through the air.

Lord Elrond turned around and Sigrid could only stare as the moonlight passed over the Lady elf. The moon made her seem clearer and she stood out like a beacon of light in the dark, much brighter than the other elves. A tall, proud lighthouse, illuminating and glowing. Her elvish diadem glimmered like silver in the dark, her white dress gently moved back and forth in the breeze like something of a ghost. She had the bluest eyes Sigrid had ever seen and as she strayed closer, it almost looked as if she was floating above the ground. Sigrid could make out small spots of light in her eyes, like they were reflecting the stars, scintillating like pure diamonds. Her hair dropped down in long, blonde ringlets... No, not blonde, more like spun gold, gleaming like some sort of treasure.

"Come with me, my child," the elf spoke as she took Sigrid's slightly shaking hand, she hadn't quite recovered yet from all the horse-riding.

She was much too distracted to really hear the lady's words as clear as she would have wanted to. For at the very same time, Galadriel's same voice started to fill up her head instead, like her very own innermost thoughts.

"My name is Galadriel and don't worry Sigrid, daughter of men. I understand that you must be wary and confused but you can trust me. Let me soothe your tiredness and hunger, for you have yet many challenges to endure." The elven voice whispered in her eardrums, echoing in her skull and she could hear it as clear as day, but still, the lady's lips weren't even moving.

She was only smiling. Sigrid was led away by the hand, transfixed and shocked. Thranduil and Lord Elrond were left alone, staring at the disappearing females. A flash of irritation passed over the elvenking's face but it was fleeting, barely there before it vanished.

**...**

The radiance from Galadriel's physique spilled onto her arms and created shadows in their wake. She had a gentle hold on Sigrid's arm as they walked in silence through the ivory corridors.

"You are so bright my lady, shinier than any other elf I've seen..." she couldn't help herself as the words spilled from her tongue, staring up at the beauty in awe.

A little smile broke out on the elf's flawless face as she looked down at her.

"No doubt it has something to do with your ring. Magic rings can often open new doors to a second sight. The light could very well be a token of the eldar and the firstborns. I'm sure such a finesse can be adjusted as our understanding of the ring grows." The lady gestured to her own ring. A blinding thing really, silverly in its form, glowing like a pure star right through her finger.

If she peeked hard enough, the light seemed to give away to a more precise shape. The ornament of a flower with some sort of gem at its centre.

"She is called Nenya, the ring of water. Do you happen to know the name of yours yet?" She looked away from the scintillating thing, her eyes burning. She focused instead on the evening scenery that peeked out behind the glass-less windows. They were inside now, walking down the fine marble hall towards a set of stairs, leading upwards in a great spiral.

"Yes, if i remember correctly... Carnimírë, though I'm probably pronouncing it wrong." She tried not to feel too stupid.

"Ah yes, the red star. We have some documents on it here albeit not much. It was said to be forged by the very smiths of the Valar themselves." Galadriel said with a raised brow, gentle in her features.

Sigrid's eyes went wide and she briefly lost her breath before Galadriel continued on. "Magic rings have a tendency of having a will of their own... They are like people with their different kinks and personalities. This one seemed to have tied itself to you, yes?" They ascended the steps and Sigrid had to focus on not stepping on the elf's moving dress.

"Yes, it was a painful process and it seems that i cannot get it to leave my finger." As they reached the top, a lit-up, wide hallway shadowed their steps as they came upon a creamy pale door.

"I see, Know that we will do what we can to rid you of this burden Sigrid but you must be prepared for anything that may come." The lady gave the door a slight push. It opened to reveal a comfortable room.

Big with a large bed, seated a the front of a large window, a glass one in the shades of green and blue. It was equipped with a desk, bedside tables and a private bathroom. It looked luxurious and expensive but not that kind of richness that reeked of money, no... It was pure, rich with culture and old, old age. She followed Galadriel into the bedroom. On one of the bedside tables, some sort of drink stood. An elegant translucent glass with a strange dark pink substance, it looked thick and it bubbled around, like something was moving in there. The lady-elf, walked over to the glass and picked it up. She sat down on the bed, the whiteness blending into her dress.

"Come here, Sigrid." She waved her hand and she realised that she had been rooted to the doorway the whole time.

She stepped forward and took a seat by the lady's side. Was she going to drink that...? She must have looked confused.

"This will be your room during your stay here. I take it you are tired yes? Have you eaten something?"

"No not for some time, I had some Lembas in the afternoon though." Galadriel looked troubled at that.

"It is as i feared then, riding for such a long time is hard enough for a human, especially for someone as young as you but i think the greater leech on your energy is the ring you bear. It merely means that you have to eat more as long as the ring is tied to you." She plucked a strand of hair from where it was stuck on her brow, putting it away behind her ear and Sigrid was struck by the sheer motherly instinct that lady Galadriel seemed to possess.

"Thranduil must have been aware of this, your face look almost ashen, my child. He has completely neglected your care..."

She didn't know what to say, she was too tired to be angry at the elven king. "Oh... alright," she heaved out looking down at her hands.

Warm fingers placed themselves under her chin and lifted her head up. "The issue is to be dealt with. You must sleep now but before you do, you must drink this to quickly renew your energy, though it won't make you any less sleepy. I know you must be genuinely tired from the day."

The elf was so gentle, so soft and soothing. She couldn't do anything other than to trust her. The liquid tasted sour on her tongue but she drank everything either way. It was just as thick as it looked and she had to swallow it down several times before everything really went down. She almost dropped the glass as she gave a cough. Galadriel took it before she could. The elf lady stood up and went away for a second before coming back with a glass of water this time. Sigrid took a few sips, looking up at the luminous elleth.

"Will you be alright on your own until morning?" Sigrid nodded, feeling somewhat warm and fuzzy.

"Then i shall leave you to your sleep, little Sigrid," lady Galadriel, said stroking her cheek briefly before taking her leave.

Sleep didn't merely creep up on her, it rushed over her like a shower, like she suddenly drowned. One minute she was awake, the other she was deep in slumber. She only just managed to step out of her dress and draw the duvet over her before she went out like a candle light.

**...**

Thranduil was reminded of his own moody atmosphere by the moving second. It churned around in his mind, like it was brewing up inside of him. Elrond's lacklustre attempts at lighthearted conversation began to test his patience. He'd much rather go straight to the point. They had already gone through the note on black speech and to no ones surprise, it had orders of retrieving the ring to Gundaband by nightfall. Now the lord of Rivendell wanted to talk about the climate up in the north and needless to say, Thranduil wasn't feeling it.

"When will Lady Galadriel return, you think?" he asked, interrupting Elrond's talk about the coming of the first snowflakes.

The elvenking rose from his seat to walk over to the balcony-like platform. It had a big waterfall, cascading down under it.

"She's only putting the girl to bed, soon i hope." Elrond came up beside him and they both observed the torrential motions of the river.

"Thranduil... have you really taken care of the girl? She looked very pale and faint like a thin sheet."

"I have seen to her needs, she still draws breath after all," he responded as one of his eyebrows developed a small tic in masked frustration.

For some reason, this new topic of Sigrid made his mood even fouler, it served as a reminder of the human girl. However, he wasn't as annoyed with her now as he'd been before, probably because she wasn't near him at the moment.

"Well you are aware of the fact that she is but a human, a young girl at that. She is still very much a child and the ring must be putting quite a strain on her," Elrond said in a formal manner but it was obvious that he genuinely cared for the girl, the lord of Rivendell had quite the soft heart.

"Little Sigrid will be in need of more food than some Lembas in the future, as long as she wears the ring at least."

They both turned around to the tuneful voice. Lady Galadriel stood tall with her hands loosely locked together at the front. Her face remained soft and gentle but her eyes told a different story. They zeroed in on him like they were about to condemn him for something. She had a soft heart as well it seemed... that's just marvellous. "I shall keep that in mind," Thranduil said, his face neutral.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The meeting continued well into the night. The topic of Carnimírë and its relationship to Sigrid was a fruitful one and wine and bread and cheese was brought to the table as they discussed. It was obvious that what had happened between the ring and Sigrid was something new, something best kept under observation for at least the coming days. They agreed that their party will stay in Rivendell so that the girl can be properly examined. According to both Elrond and Galadriel, they had never seen anything like it. Though Lady Galadriel had her theories and they seemed very fitting considering the circumstances.

"We all know magic rings have an ability to think for themselves and I think it is wise to expect the same with this one." The Lady began, rising from her seat in favour of absentmindedly walking around, probably an old habit.

She circled the table much like a shark but there were no predatory glint in her eyes but only that of contemplation. "I would theorise that the ring must have latched onto Sigrid's soul for a very good reason and it probably doesn't have to be a too complicated one either. We can entertain the idea that this daughter of men, doesn't have a drop of -what would be the old remnants of the Valar and even Eru himself- left in her blood. The song of creation, sung to wake up the race of men, the second borns -may have faded throughout the centuries but it is seldom we see someone that doesn't even have a shred of its grace."

It was as if she was singing the words and as her voice carried itself over the atmosphere, the rest of the nightlife noises seemed to fade away at its wake. Thranduil and Elrond were both judicious enough to listen when the highest and wisest amongst them spoke.

"When dealing with magic rings, we often believed that it would be an advantage to the wielder if he or she had been born closer to the awakening of their respective race, if only to have a drop of divinity from their creator, from such magic. If not that, then it was favoured for them to stem from a particular linage with its roots in magic. This has proven to be mostly true but I am willing to consider the opposite this time. Maybe the ring attached itself to Sigrid because of her very much ordinary nature, maybe that would make her the perfect host to possess. A descendant of the second borns with a whole body and soul, relatively untouched and not bound to the fate of Arda. The ring may just have found lots of empty space to take up and use. As such, Sigrid may be the unique opportunity for the to exercise its power to its full potential. To finally practise its nature." Galadriel's words sunk into the night air, filling up his head with enlightened thoughts, troubled as he connected the dots.

He decided to quickly voice his opinion before Elrond took the space.

"Living beings without an ounce of the creator's magic are rare, so rare that it has been believed to be unnatural. The magic of the Valar, of Eru, has been rooted into everything and everyone on Arda. It has been that way ever since the first song. Even though most of the magic are unattainable and locked away from the lesser creatures, such as men, it is still there. Are you insinuating that nothing, not even a small corn of magic exists in Sigrid?" his tone was respectful enough, hiding his rising bafflement.

"It is not completely unheard of... though it is a true rarity... this may be the reason as to why the ring is showing off new abilities not previously documented or even known of," Elrond filled in, his eyes far away, lost in deep thought as is quite typical of the high elf.

"It is a possibility we shouldn't skip over, we don't have any other explanations as it stands." Galadriel said again, coming to a stop and facing the moon, her back turned to them.

It actually made sense, not only that but this particular possibility opened up new doors. Maybe Sigrid was just the right person he needed to explore the ring further. His more inquisitive and calculating side reared its head. How fitting it would have to be that Sigrid had just landed in his grasp, it was almost suspicious.

"Nevertheless, our enemies know of the ring's potential, as in they seem to know of Sigrid... however they don't seem to know of the... entanglement between her and the ring seeing as they only had intentions of taking the trinket and not the girl," Thranduil mentioned, steering his mind in onto other matters.

"Yes, we should keep her close for her own protection," Elrond answered, giving voice to the elven king's thoughts but in no way was he about to let this valuable price stay in Rivendell.

The night sunk down in deep silence as the three elves concluded their meeting. Now as Thranduil sat in his guest chambers. He figured they would have to stay in Rivendell for at most a week, as long as it was needed for Sigrid to be properly examined. Still the whole topic of the ring brought a new perspective. With Sigrid as its host, the ring had exercised a new set of powers, not previously known. The theory that the ring could perform offensive abilities, such as leaving burn marks if it felt threatened, was a fitting one. In other words, if the ring's host, Sigrid was under ill will, the ring would step in and "protect" its perfect host.

That would explain why it seemingly turned on Sigrid herself when she tried to take off the ring back in Erebor. It would explain why it even burned her own sister when she came near as well as her father, not to speak of the bandits that assaulted her on their journey. One thing stood out though, a detail that didn't quite fit in with the rest. The ring had yet to hurt him. It didn't burn him back in Erebor when it had no problems with burning others. Of course that could be because of the enchantment he had to perform but he truly doubted that. Merely because it once again didn't do anything when he this early morning escorted her to the horses.

He had been mildly irritated about the fact that she wouldn't tell him what she'd seen in his own kingdom and thus he dug his nails into her back. Her pained squeal had been satisfying to his ears and not once did the ring act to protect its host. She did yield to him later though, showcasing that a little bit of force was necessary. He suspected the reason why it didn't hurt him, it was a sneaking idea of his. Thranduil rose from his chair, determined to test his theory out. There was something that bugged him about the whole ordeal and so he found himself outside her doors.

The locations of the girl's chambers had eluded him at first but he managed to catch a glimpse of something red faintly shining in one of the windows. She hadn't drawn the curtains properly and thus he saw her sleeping facade and pale hand, the ring glowing like a tiny star. Her door was unlocked, thankfully. It creeped open soundlessly and it remained quiet as he closed it as well. He made sure to lock it, just in case she decided to run. Not that she would get very far.

The room was quite big and luxurious enough to be befitting a guest of at least nobility. Now Sigrid did stem from noble birth, her grandfather being the late lord of Dale and soon her father will be the first crowned king of Dale, so the Laketown girl would soon take the title of princess. He only had to take one look at her youthful face to decide that such titles didn't fit her. She was born in Laketown, grown up amongst the poorest of the poor. She didn't have the attitude nor the posture to be anything more than that. That ring on her finger was the only thing which made her worth his time.

The moonlight gave the blue and white decor of the room an almost ghostly glow. The figure in the bed remained motionless, lest for the rise and fall of her chest. She rested on her back, her head slightly tilted away from his eyes. Her skin looked alabaster white in the moonlight. He strolled over to the window and blocked out the moon with the curtains. Strings of light still seeped through though, not leaving them in complete darkness. As he walked over to her sleeping form, he was struck with the fact that the shadows did little to diminish her pallor, the uncovered parts of her still stood out amongst the bedsheets. She seemed to be in deep sleep though.

Thranduil knelt down by her bedside and slowly reached for her hand, the one with the ring on. His fingers lightly grazed the smooth skin and the pointed knuckles before landing on the magical trinket. That red thing was warm to the touch, impossibly warm but it didn't do much to heat up the rest of the girls body. He would have thought her to be a corpse were it not for her moving chest and soft breaths. He was slightly irked by this... she was paler and colder than normal. That was an issue and she should get warmed up by the ring with all the heat it was producing... maybe it just liked to take its time? He doubted it.

Nevertheless, Thranduil decided to first try to pry off the ring, which of course didn't work. It still sat glued to her finger like a second skin... If he were to successfully pull it off, then surely parts of her flesh would come along with it, or maybe the whole finger. He wasn't about to try that. There simply has to be another way to unlink the two but after hearing Lady Galadriel's thoughts on it, he would have to take note of his own doubts. He slowly covered her hand with his and all of sudden, taking him by a surprise, those red marks appeared again. They rose up from her skin, lit up in redness and the ring pulsed like it was something very much alive. Like it was a small, blood-filled heart, slowly heating her cold limps up.

He could feel the ancient magic in the air around them, as it emerged from the ring in small waves, like it had spent centuries locked up and now it was finally roaming free. A thin veil of warm threads, invisible to the naked eye but still very much present, came down upon the two and the very air seemed to shift. He had never experienced something quite like it before. The red marks gleamed like tattoos and climbed their way up over her body like the branches of a tree, like heated veins. He could see strands of her hair rising up and floating as well as the edges of her blanket. The charm was that strong it seemed, it gave off this feeling of an eerie awe, something worthy of reverence.

Thranduil didn't know for how long he sat there, staring at the wonder before him. This reaction of the ring spurred on his own theory and he now wanted it confirmed. If she feels something, he is right and if not... it just wouldn't make sense. He took ahold of her wrist, turning it around and exposing the white skin there, shining with red symbols. His nails closed in around it, viciously digging into her skin until it turned into a bright pink. Sigrid jerked back, waking up from her slumber as a scream fought its way out of her mouth. He reacted quickly and latched his hand over her lips. Her brown eyes were wide like plates, filled up with tears as they zeroed in on him. Unbeknown to him, the girl was already looking for ways to escape.

**...**

Sigrid had suddenly been wretched from her sleep and thrown into a hurtful experience. She was confused with her newly awaken fuzziness but this much she understood: Her arm stung like mad and it was contained in an iron grip. She immediately sat up and tried to move away, her loud gasp morphing into a scream. She never got to voice her complaint for long though as a hand clamped down on her lips, reducing her voice to a muffled groan. The bed dipped slightly as he sat there on her bedside, holding her jaw shut. The force from his hand pushed her head backwards and into the wall. Everything made her skull throb and Sigrid was once again shocked by the sensation of pain, once again the ring failed her.

In the midst of her awakening, the blanket had fallen down to reveal her red-marked skin. She realised that the only clothing she had on was her sheer underwear and strapless bra. But she couldn't find herself embarrassed by that since there were much more pressing matters to attend to. Like how she was struggling to breathe from Thranduil's hold. As she stared up at him with tear-filled eyes, she kept on twisting and turning, in a vain hope for release.

Her fear for the elvenking came -piece by piece- rushing back and nearly knocked the air out of her. He was unpredictable, he wasn't at all like the kind elves she'd met here. He was something cruel, something deranged and the terrible scar on his face only emphasised that. She moaned and cried beneath his crushing hand, kicking her legs around and arching her back. He let go of her wrist and her right hand could finally join her other as they tried to pry his fingers from her mouth. Of course it didn't work. In the end, Sigrid had to force her body to calm down and become still and quiet for it was probably what he wanted from her. She could tell that from his impatient face, causing more trouble right now was not in her favour. Her hands fell away to grip the sheets and everything went still except for her erratic breathing. The marks on her skin flared wildly before disappearing once more. They held eye contact for what felt like hours, his one blue eye digging under her skin like a shovel. Finally he slowly let his hand fall from her face and Sigrid greedily took in large gulps of air. She felt like crying from the stressful situation.

"W-why...?" she stammered out between shaking gasps.

Thranduil sat quiet for a moment before finally uttering something, carefully, like he was choosing his words.

"I needed to test out a theory. The ring doesn't seem to do much to numb the pain when i'm the one hurting you, nor does it burn me like the others."

She felt like banging her head against a wall but instead she remained baffled and then, seething with anger.

"That much is obvious. Now that you have felt the need to disturb me like this, i hope you can just leave me alone."

She didn't mean for her words to come out like sharp needles but they did and it very much matched her inner feelings. He couldn't just barge in like that, not only was it improper and rude but he had pretty much assaulted her as well. Sigrid glared at him with both fear and anger. She wasn't going to change her perfectly reasonable attitude. Indeed, she roused the elven king's ill will but what did that matter, she was pretty sure she already had it in waves.

"Watch your tongue girl, you are absolutely not in a position to make demands and to think that i would listen to you is laughable," his voice hissed out like a snake and Sigrid became aware of how he seemed to creep closer by the second. Or at least, it felt like it, for all she knows her vision could be skewed. Trembling, she fumbled around to cover herself, drawing the blanket up to her collarbone. Then, it was like he snapped...

"Who are you to even speak to me without permission. You should be grateful for all the trouble i've gone through, all because you couldn't keep your fingers to yourself. You insolent, wretched, foolish little girl!" His voice rose with every word and she began to deeply regret her show of defiance. Her tears spilled forth once more as he ripped the blanket off her and she curled up into a ball, pressing herself up against the wall. "You should kneel down and kiss my feet in gratitude because without me, you would have been butchered back in Dale. Mark my words, if the ring didn't have such a special bond with you, i would have chopped off your fingers a long time ago. Regretfully, it seems to prosper with you as its host, feeding on you like a leech. How fitting it is that the ring won't do much to protect you from me, maybe it recognises its true master. That means I can at the very least cut out your tongue and finally be rid of your ill-informed and daft opinions. Truly, Sigrid Bardsdottir that ring is the only thing keeping you alive for i would have left you to die otherwise." His words pitched down into a whispered tune, low but curt, cutting into her bones with each syllable.

Her knees pressed up against her chest and she tried in vain to disappear inside the wall. His scar seemed to stretch and strain as his jaw moved, like it was alive and she could see the tearstained image of herself in his white, pupil-less eye. All throughout his speech, he'd leaned closer in, to her. His anger and hate seemed to vibrate from him and she could feel her ring now pulsing in sync with her heart. It was obvious that the anger he now showed, had been piling up in him for quite some time, like a seedling, growing and developing. Sigrid believed his every word and she had never been more afraid. That white light that enclosed him spun around like sharp edges, it was something lethal, something best kept at bay. More tears ran down her cheeks and she feared that the white edges would cut open her skin if they dared to stray any closer.

"I-I'm sorry, please... you... you shouldn't hurt me..." she stammered out, hoarse and meek.

Almost as soon as the words left her, she wanted to bite her own tongue off. It seemed her fear steered her every move. Apparently, she was all talk and no real action, no real backbone. All bark and no bite. The utter shame of it weighted her down deeply. He sat in silence and she watched as his eyes seemed to drop down and inspect her nakedness. A small sneer creeped up over his lips and she wanted to crawl out of her skin.

"I suppose you have been underfed your entire life."

She sat still, not really knowing where he was going with this. She doubted he had looked at her like that for the sole reason of commenting on her food intake. She really wasn't that skinny, sure she was slender but she still had some curves. Curves she tried to hide at this moment.

"Your father probably doesn't love you as much as you like to think if he fails to even provide for you."

She wanted to slap him to Erebor and back but managed to stifle the impulse, she didn't dare to do that. Instead, she merely glared at him, biting her lip as an attempt to stop herself from blurting out something stupid. It didn't work.

"My father is an honourable man and he would move mountains for his children if he could. Life in Laketown is not as luxurious as it may be in your palace. People didn't always get their fill and we actually had to adapt in order to survive," Sigrid bit out, trying to remain calm.

"Survive? You speak as if you know a great deal about it. You're too young to even articulate yourself properly, let alone grasp the real meaning behind such a word." His words cut close to the bone, he was looking down on her, berating her to no end.

She briefly wondered what she did to deserve such distaste from the elf before her. Thranduil's face stood out in the dark like a pale, pale skull. His one eye laid shadowed to the point where it didn't seem so blue anymore, it reminded her more of a deep, dark sea. The cold and rocky bottom of the ocean where even light must die. Sigrid knew she was treading on thin ice but if he tried anything, she could always scream for help.

"I survived a war." She found her voice again and raised her head high, meeting his gaze.

He only laughed at her. A deep rumbling sound, vibrating from his chest. Like storm clouds and his teeth shone white, like flashes of lightning. Even though he was horrendous, he was still beautiful, even with the scar. She flinched when his hand came up to grip her jaw, his fingers digging into her skin like they were made of steel. They were rough and calloused and not as warm as she thought elvish flesh would be. Galadriel's hands had been warm and healthy and soft, it was not the same with the elvenking. He reminded her of a hard and jagged stone, neither cold nor warm. Thranduil leaned down and for one panicky second she thought he would kiss her but his facial expression indicated none of that. This was only an intimidation tactic, nothing more. It had to be like that.

"I saved you from that war, you were hardly on the frontlines, Bardsdottir," he told her, barely a whisper.

Her bottom lip became numb once more as her teeth clamped down on it. A nervous habit, she would have to quit it, lest she wanted to walk around with torn lips all day. She thought she could see his eye following the motion, spying on it like a hawk. Then he let her go and rose from the bed. Sigrid let out a breath but didn't dare to do anything other than to stare at him. He seemed to be thinking of something, his thick brows furrowed up in a calculating way and his lips curled and thinned.

He cast his gaze down to her hand, the shining ring and as he stared at it, he said: "Stop biting your lip."

The words came out like a monotonous command. Her already pulsing ring spiked suddenly in a heat wave, causing her freeze up. Her jaw relaxed as her teeth removed themselves from the red flesh. Sigrid didn't know what to think of the ordeal, why was the ring acting up again? She gasped lowly and looked down at the red thing. The urge to keep biting on her lip was still there but... she couldn't act on it. Unbeknown to her, the elven king was nothing short of elated. The idea that if the ring truly recognised him as its true master, then maybe it would follow his orders as well - laid still fresh in his mind. After all, if the ring had truly bonded with Sigrid in such a manner, then she may as well be treated as an extension of the ring itself.

Commanding her seemed to have worked when he concentrated on the ring. The red flash that had radiated from it in that moment could hardly have been a coincidence. Thranduil began to test his discovery. Though, he had to think of something she would normally never do. But... did he have to focus on her ring all the time or could he just be loosely thinking of it? A leer spread over his lips as he realised this night would be an experimental one, full of new insights.

"Hold your breath." He said to her.

Looking down at her ring, he'd decided to proceed with the same tactic he'd used before. Mainly having his full attention on the trinket as if he was speaking to it rather than her, not that there was any major difference between the two now that he thought about it. The ring sparkled red again and he knew it had been a success. She was quiet for a few milliseconds before she realised she couldn't breathe. Not a sound escaped her but her eyes were the most wide he had ever seen. She looked terrified, her mouth stayed closed, sealed off and he could see how her chest weren't moving. She stood up rapidly, brown doe eyes flickering around as her hands cupped her mouth. A small whine could be heard in the back of her throat as she struggled for air. It must have blocked off her nose as well.

"Don't try to pry your lips open now," he said as he saw her fingers going over her closed mouth.

He had said so while only thinking briefly of the ring, only imagining that he had control over her. It wasn't much of an imaginary thing anymore. The ring repeated its sparks and her hands fell down, almost limp at her sides. He heard a muffled scream from somewhere behind her pinkish lips. She came over to him, or at least tried to before her legs failed her and she was left shaking on the floor. Her hands laid pressed up to her chest and neck and her pale face had turned red. He figured that was enough. He knelt down over Sigrid's writhing form, his fingers briefly touching her warm forehead. She would lose consciousness soon.

She was such a small thing, truly fragile like porcelain. Seeing this young mortal in such a pained distress made him think of death itself. Death was a given for the lesser races, a constant shadow and an unavoidable endgame. For immortals, it meant one thing and for mortals, something entirely different.

"You can breathe now," Thranduil said to the trembling Sigrid and she immediately gasped and choked as she greedily took in large gulps of air.

Sigrid laid there, exhausted, breathing heavily, probably trying to gather her thoughts. It was now when she laid arched and panting that her nakedness became all the more apparent, not that it wasn't before. He barely took any note of how his gaze would creep downwards and stop at her curves and when he did, he couldn't help but be noticeable vexed by that innate impulse. She wasn't ugly or anything near undeveloped and that fact didn't do him any wonders. It was a minor distraction but she was still a child, maybe not by human standards but certainly by elvish standards. He wasn't about to allow himself to have any such thoughts about a mortal child, at least not if he could help it.

He decided she looked pretty plain anyway... if one only saw her from the mere corner of their eye. Either way, considering the circumstances... he may have to get used to her. This new enlightenment of how the ring only answers to him, is not so easily forsaken. He could use this to his advantage and if there was anything Thranduil enjoyed, it was being in control. Maybe he even enjoyed it too much. Nevertheless, he disliked the thought of having to regulate any minor ticks or behaviours of himself, mainly because he already did it so much already. Self-discipline was something he had learned when he was quite young and over the years, he had grown quite good at it. Although, he would have to admit that it was easier to control others than himself...

He once again found himself eying her slim waist before determinedly dragging his gaze up to her face, subsequently landing on her lips. Oh well, it hardly mattered where he looked ...as long as he thought nothing of it. Not that he could do much about his unconscious thoughts anyway, he was a master at lying to himself.

"H-how?" Her weak little voice rang out, eyes brown and bloodshot.

He smiled at her and took ahold of her arms.

"It would seem that the ring knows to whom it belongs. It recognises my bloodline."

Dragging her up from the floor, he lead her over to the bed again, promptly pushing her down on it. Sigrid was still in shock, she felt utterly tense and well beyond frozen, confused above all else. As soon as she came in contact with the bed she quickly slipped down under the sheets, maybe for warmth, maybe for a false sense of security.

"I don't understand... how could it-it control me like that?" she whispered out, curling up into a ball under the blankets.

Sigrid felt like crying, she could still feel how that accursed thing had taken ahold of her... her muscles, her limbs. A melting heat had rushed through her veins and it kept her in place, like shackles as something else steered her every move, invisible strings. Looking up at the elf standing before her, she knew that something terrible had just occurred but she dared not to say it out loud, as if that would make it all real. Was she nothing but a slave now? Did the blasted ring posses her just as much as Thranduil apparently possessed the ring? What if the bond between her and ring couldn't be separated? What then? She knew If she kept circling around in this thought process, she would start hyperventilating and that was the last thing she wanted with him around. She needed to tell Lady Galadriel about all of this... she needed to tell someone.

"Sigrid," a voice broke out through her rapid thoughts and she blinked up at the elven king. "You cannot do so much as utter a single word about our little meeting here, not to anyone or anything. It won't work now that I hold this sway."

His hand reached down and caressed her cheek, his knuckles felt like hard stones against her skin. She felt those shackles return as they skimmed over her mouth, invading her insides. Her tongue was tied in a hard knot and she wide-eyed stared at him. She knew it, she didn't stand a chance against this... this power. This strange, strange will the ring seemed to possess. Sigrid breathed heavily, peering up at his looming posture. The scar on his face almost seemed to change shape, morphing into a cruel grin. Now she cried.

"Not a single word Sigrid."

"Yes," she whispered out hoarsely, tears running down her cheeks like they were fleeing her body.

Thranduil gave her a smirk and before letting her go, he leaned down to her frightful face and whispered: "Good girl".

Then he left, gracefully and silent in the blink of an eye. Sigrid did not sleep that night and as soon as his footsteps had dissolved completely into silence, she let out a breath and immediately started sobbing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

She was seated in one of the many gardens of Rivendell. She'd just had breakfast, brought to her on a platter by an unnamed elleth. Sigrid had asked for her name, politely in hopes for a conversation but it would seem that ellleth couldn't speak Westron very well. The elf had just shook her head with a strained smile before taking her leave. Oh well, at least she didn't seem all too uncomfortable in her presence. The gardens of Rivendell were nothing short of astounding and even though it was autumn, she didn't freeze that much.

The dress she had don was a white one, soft and thick. Long sleeved with a modest v-shaped neckline. Tied around her waist was a light-blue silken cloth, acting as a broad belt. Luckily it was fitting for someone of human stature, seeing as the lord of Rivendell knew she would arrive. She was happy that they'd already prepared a room for her and the dress hugged her figure nicely and if one looked closely, they would see small flowers and thorns decorate the silk. At this moment, she was quite smitten, if not mesmerised by the scenery around her, it was never not beautiful.

The trees looked like flames, changing from red to orange depending on where the sun shone from. The mossy, leaf-filled ground laid decorated with small ponds and rivers, circled by shiny white stones. The flowerbeds and berries still laid in bloom, though they would dwindle away in maybe a months time. Sigrid herself sat under the ornamented glass roof of an octagon stone gazebo. It was framed by see-through white curtains that hardly even moved in the wind. She felt calm and rather collected, considering the times.

Sigrid fought back a yawn, grimacing slightly. She hadn't slept well, hardly at all after her... nightly visit. When she wasn't crying she was obsessing over all kinds of possible future scenarios that hadn't happened yet. She was terribly afraid and she knew she was completely alone in this. She couldn't tell anyone, as soon as she even thought about it, her tongue seemed to tie itself in knots, dried out, like she hadn't had a drink for days. Sigrid contemplated the matter, the matter of her own enslavement. If she ever became free from this curse, she would scream out the things she couldn't say, loud enough for everyone to hear.

In that moment a new elf seemed to pop up out of nowhere, almost scaring her half to death. This elleth had long blonde hair that seemed to melt in with her honey-coloured dress. Her brown eyes looked rather soft and approachable and she actually smiled at her. Sigrid was about to greet her when the elf stopped before her, curtsying deeply.

"Your Highness, my name is Himien Hwinnorion. Lady Galadriel sent me to escort you."

She could only stare in bewilderment. Surely the elleth couldn't mean her? "Highness...?" she inquired.

The elf looked at her with a small smile, like she'd been expecting that reaction.

"Even if your father hasn't been crowned yet, i see no reason to be thrifty with the titles. Is it not exiting to become princess?"

Sigrid tried to mask her surprise. "I didn't know words of my father's situation had reached so far... You needn't be so formal with me just yet though and to be honest, i'm rather skittish about the whole ordeal."

She rose from her seat, nervously turning touching her ring. An easy-going smile was in due and she made sure to make the elleth feel at ease even though she herself did not.

"Oh, that is only normal when such a huge honour is bestowed upon one. Would you like me to do something about your hair before we leave?"

"Is it that terrible?" Sigrid asked, nervously tugging on some loose locks.

She'd put it up in her usual bun, not anything major. certainly not anything that would be normally seen in elvish lands. Apparently she may look much too mortal and plain for the elleth tastes. Said elleth just laughed at her and shook her head.

"You don't have to answer that," Sigrid said and stood up from her chair. "Feel free to do what you want."

...

The elf had lead her back towards her chambers. She sat her down by the dressing table and excessively started to run a brush through her hair. Her fingers were quick and skilled for she had probably done this a thousands times over. In the end, her hair laid loose without its knots and weird shapes. It spiralled down in gentle ringlets, not even a little bit unruly and they even looked straighter and more tamed than usual. Her upper bangs were drawn back and fastened at the back of her head with a silver leaf. As the elleth carefully covered her ears with the remaining bangs and long strands, Sigrid became all the more aware of how she surely was aiming to make this mortal look more elf-like.

Lady Galadriel commented on this later on, when Himien had left her to the lady's care in yet another garden. This one was more open but still shrouded with leaves and high trees. It looked greener here as well, like everything still stood in full bloom, like it was summer.

"Himien is known for being skilled with her hands, she did a splendid work on you."

The lady herself wore a light green dress with small white pearls stitched into it. It caught the light of the sun just like the golden strands of her hair. She seemed almost god-like.

"Thank you my lady." That was all she could come up with as she looked down on her hands, intently focusing on the ring.

"Is there something troubling you my child? You look weary, didn't you sleep well?"

An excuse came to her automatically and she felt her frustration grow as she couldn't tell the elf a single thing.

"I'm just worried about the ring... King Thranduil said that you could help me maybe?" She bit her lip and hesitantly met the lady's blue eyes.

They seemed deeper than usual, like a long heavenly spiral of the clearest sapphires. When she spoke next, her tune had changed slightly. Lower, controlled and almost secretive, like she knew something.

"The best help i can offer you is knowledge and guidance. There are certain aspects of the ring you'll need to know about. However, before we'll go into any of that, there are certain enchantments i need to perform on you, cutting you off from the ring's hold is our primary goal at the moment."

Galadriel gave her a smile as her hands traveled over the long, stone table to take her own. Her fingers were warm and soft like cotton as they ran over her ring. The blazing light from Nenya nearly blinded her and she rapidly blinked away the small tears that came forth from the shock.

"Enchantments? Will it hurt?" Sigrid inquired, her eyebrows creasing themselves in worry.

"Hopefully not, i'll tend to avoid such things but i can't promise anything," the lady answered.

She swallowed thickly and averted her eyes from Galadriel's sapphire ones to her ringed finger. "Alright then, do what you will."

What followed was subtle, quiet and calm. Galadriel enclosed her small hands in her own, bigger and more elegant ones. The ring seemed appeased at first, barely pulsing and moving about, like a pacified sea. Then her whole hand seemed to shimmer, as if glittering pearls resided right under her skin. It was faint enough but it was still there and it made the red light from her ring dull down somewhat. With each passing second, she could feel her ring getting slightly cooler and thus it flowed through her whole hand. As she looked up to study Galadriel's expression, she was once more struck by her sheer beauty. Her eyes were closed but her lips seemed to form soundless words, as if she was repeating something in her head. She couldn't hear anything other than faint whispers that seemed to move with the wind, flowing around them in a subtle and placid ambiance. Inaudible and foreign and probably very ancient.

Though as Sigrid saw something move in the corner of her eye, she went on to catch the stare of someone. Standing by a shrouded opening in the garden was Thranduil. He stood out amongst the green scenery with his dark blue tunic, decorated with small silverly shapes in line with an ornamented belt hanging by his hips. The tunic reached down to the middle of his thighs and up it went, covering his neck. His high boots matched the colour scheme perfectly except for his breaches and overcoat which were black, all though, not without the small decorations of silverly symbols. The sunlight shifted slightly over the top of his head as he stepped over to the more shadowed part of the garden.

Their eyes had met and she found it hard to tear her gaze away. Memories from last night flooded her mind, unwelcomed and intruding. His eyes narrowed and he fixed her with not quite a glare but rather, a stare made of steel. She knew what he wanted and she held her head high, she hadn't disobeyed him yet even if he didn't quite know that. Yet, for some reason, as she observed his elvish features, she couldn't help but catch a hint of... hard-fought bitterness maybe? Some sort of resentfulness? Whatever it was, it couldn't be directed towards her, after all, she had not done anything out of place. She didn't get to elaborate on that thought for something washed over her hand. It stung and twitched as red marks appeared and started to climb up her elbow.

She automatically flinched and reared back in frightened alarm. Galadriel held onto her hand though as if to reassure her but it didn't feel right. Her grip was too strong and her fingers dug way too deep into her skin. It was uncomfortable but Sigrid couldn't do anything, she seemed to have lost her voice. Then slowly but surely, the red marks shimmered and dissolved. Little by little, the high elf released her hands and she felt as if she could breathe again. Sigrid was hoping beyond hope that she hadn't accidentaly burnt the lady Galadriel. She didn't look troubled though, instead she merely smiled at her, a strained one maybe, full of seriousness.

"Your ring puts up a fight, this will not be as easy i would have hoped. In all fairness, i have doubts i will succeed. The ring's enchantments are old and powerful, it has taken root within your body and soul itself. If it's hard for me to even grasp at its bonds the first time, it won't be much easier the second time."

"But... It cannot be stuck on me forever can it? I'm a mortal after all, what will happen with it once i die?" she blurted out, a bile rising in her throat at the possibility of spending a lifetime with this cursed thing on her finger.

In her gut, she could feel herself becoming all the more stressful, the worst outcome could very well be the reality.

"I do not have the answer to that just yet but i will have soon enough, do not embrace the worst of scenarios now. It is not hopeless, not yet at the very least." Galadriel's voice sounded soft and soothing but it did little to ease her unrest, though it did seem as if she had read her mind like a book.

Her starry eyes kept her own dull eyes in a steady grip, before she turned her gaze to the side. "My apologies for not greeting you sooner, King Thranduil. Have you come here to merely observe or is there something you wish to say?" the lady said to the elf, whom she by all means shouldn't have known to be there.

She hadn't even turned around to look in his direction. It seemed Sigrid was the only one surprised at this but she really shouldn't be. Elves were known to have outstanding hearing and sensory capabilities.

"I was just passing by, I take it your progress has been fruitless so far?" Thranduil responded rather bluntly as he came closer to the seated females.

"A very insightful presumption, though we have hardly started yet. Take a seat."

And such, the remaining forenoon was spent repeating the same process but under Thranduil's watchful eye. He sat at the far end of the long table, he rarely spoke under Galadriel's work. After four more attempts, with the very same outcome as the first one, the high elf looked nearly stumped. Though, she seemed all the more lost in deep thoughts. Not even once did the ring bring any real harm to her but Galadriel knew a looming threat when she felt one.

The lady of Galadhrim, old as she was, felt the need to settle down somewhere quiet, in solitude to go over the newly revealed revelations. One glaring matter was the ring and the fact that it was now, undeniably a part of Sigrid Bardsdottir. Galadriel felt it in her bones, in the depths of her soul... The two couldn't be unlinked by her powers. If she couldn't do it, then the number of possible candidates shrunk down to none and she doubted the Valar would lend their aid, difficult to contact as they were. Besides Little Sigrid could meet her demise if they were severed now, with how much the ring was currently feeding on her energy. Maybe if Sigrid had been brought to her attention sooner, she could have done something... But now, as the ring has had plenty of time to bind and connect itself to the child's soul and body, plenty of weeks probably, it sure looked bleak.

Galadriel probably could seperate the two of them, but not without any harm or trauma befalling Sigrid, even a painful death was not unlikely, instead, it was actually very likely indeed. Another deeply concerning matter was the strange energy that seemed to flow from the ring to Thranduil. Even if it was attached to Sigrid, it still seemed to gravitate towards the Elvenking, as if it was linked to two people at once. That fact opened doors to even more possibilities and she could imagine that it left Sigrid in quite the vulnerable situation. What if the king could manipulate the ring's powers? What of Sigrid then?

Galadriel sighed as she met the child's confused eyes. She was much too young to go through something like this, her whole essence bled out rivers of anxiety and the lady of light took pity on her fragile soul. She was innocent and truth to be told, her inner, rather closed-off maternal side reared its head at her helplessness. She cared about the child and her frail little face seemed as if it was on the brink of a meltdown, like she would crumble at any moment. It all briefly took her back to when her own Celebrían had been but a youngling. Of course, this sensitivity and emotion was only increased by the ring's influence. At least according to the legend, the mighty Valar Nienna was to blame.

Galadriel was old enough to know the Valar's magic when she encountered it and the notion that it could be written of as a mere legend was now very much false. It was the reality of situation that Sigrid had been touched by the divine.

"It seems that I won't come much longer on this frontier, I'm afraid I must leave you now little Sigrid for I have much to ponder about. I would very much like it if you read up on information about your ring in the meantime, it is only healthy for you to stay informed. Thranduil, I'm sure you remember the way to the library, yes? I hope you would not mind escorting Sigrid there?" the lady of light said as she turned her head in the Elvenking's direction, smooth as silk. "You need only inform the librarians of what you're looking for and they will provide you with what you need."

The only visible reaction that came from Thranduil was the nod of his head as he briefly closed his eyes. Sigrid tried not to let her utter discomfort show as her gaze flickered between the two.

"When can i see you again, my lady?" she asked, biting her lip and hoping for the best.

The elleth rose from her seat and both Thranduil and Sigrid followed suit.

"When i'm available, my child," Galadriel answered as she came over to said child and placed a hand on her back, leading her over to Thranduil, who observed the two almost intently. "I do believe most of the documents in the library are written in elvish or in tengwar as we call it. Luckily you will have the king with you as a translator."

"Documents? How many do you suspect there is?" Thranduil suddenly cut in, his eyes a tad bit narrowed.

"Not many since very little is know about Carnimírë, i believe you must know this as well. It could only be about two scrolls," the lady of light said, her gaze trailing over the garden as if she was still deep in thought.

"I suspected as much," Thranduil concluded as his eyes traveled over Sigrid's lithe figure, where she stood inspecting her hands.

"Sigrid," He suddenly said, causing the girl to snap her head up. He raised his eyebrows in a rather direct manner. "Let's go."

And so, the girl bid the lady farewell as she followed the Elvenking. They weren't going the same way she'd came from, she realised. Instead the walked down the path of where she'd first seen Thranduil, in that shrouded opening. With each step he took, the leaves and grass made a crunching noise in complain. His pallid hair spilled out over his broad shoulders like milk. It stood out like a lighthouse in the green and blue scenery. They passed large trees and flowery bushes as the wildlife framed their path and blocked out the pale sun from time to time. Were they not just going deeper into the Garden at this point?

"Are you really taking me to the library?" Sigrid almost hesitantly asked out.

"Do you take me for a kidnapper?" was his only respond, his voice low but not indicating that he'd taken any offensive. She turned her head, wondering if Galadriel was still there but she could hardly make out the white table, or even the glade anymore.

"No," she said once she looked back at him, still finding her stubborn and stupid courage even if the elf-lady wasn't there to protect her anymore. "I take you for a sadist."

He halted in his steps and slowly swung around. The look on his face was nothing short of bewildered, just on the edge of affronted. He did not look outraged though but still, he really had no idea? Sigrid felt caught off guard as his piercing gaze zeroed in on her. She forced her feet to remain locked on the ground, to be still as he stalked up to her, staring her down.

"Please do explain your reasoning," he said.

She looked up at him and held her stance. "You seem to take pleasure out of other people's suffering."

He smiled at her, a slow, creeping one. Like she was nothing but a little girl, whom he was about to correct.

"When you say other people, you must mean yourself, don't you? Maybe you just need to grow a thicker skin, to adapt to your situation. I'm just realistic and this realism is of course disturbing to you, enough so that you may view it as something sadistic. Everything I've done and all I'm after is for the betterment of my own people. Really Sigrid, you should stop being weak and childish, all you ever do is whine and doubt yourself. Maybe if you decided to grow up, then i could treat as the adult you so favourable view yourself as but i'm afraid it would take years upon years."

Her mouth stood open and gaping like a fish out of water. Sigrid did not know what to say to that. To even articulate a good answer was hard enough in her head and his every word stung like an assault of angry bees. She didn't call him sadistic because of his blunt way of stating the truth, she wasn't so weak that the reality would need to be sugarcoated before her eyes. She wasn't naive or ignorant, she thought she had been through enough of trauma this past month to grow and mature in good faith. She had never ever been especially immature anyway. The only thing she had done here was to comment on his obvious malevolent side and he had only made himself look worse.

His insult sank deep into her bones and in frustration she could feel the beginnings of a faint redness creep over her cheeks. White teeth clamped down on her bottom lip and she stared up at him, mad for every eye to see. Their little talk ended there. She walked in silence behind him as he lead the way through the garden. They passed over a stone bridge with countless small rivers passing under it, coming together and forming a bigger more impressive form of running water. As they walked, the green life became less and less until they were treading upon a stone yard.

There, they came upon an opening, an entrance into the hallways of Rivendell. Clean and elegant as they were, inviting in the soft candle light (for there were not many windows in here) Sigrid could still not relax for it felt like he was leading her farther and farther away from civilization. She had yet to see a single elf. They took stairwell after stairwell down into what felt like tunnels. At the end of it all, they came upon a large, oval shaped room, tremendous in its splendour and size. White and shiny bookshelves stood lined up and seemed to grow like trees from the ivory floor. Candles and blue lanterns hung everywhere from the walls to the ceiling. Small rivers of water ran down from the walls from some sort of hole in the stone structure. They collected in the respective lithe fountains, hanging by the walls, decorated with flowers and pearls. She may have just found her favourite place.

Here there dwelled only two elves. A male and a female, seemingly related due to their strikingly similar appearances. Long, braided auburn hair with bright blue eyes. They bowed respectfully when they caught the sight of the elvenking. He said something in elvish to them and with no breath to spare, they were off to do whatever they were told. Sigrid, who didn't quite know what do with herself, promptly avoided Thranduil's eyes and went over to one of the many long tables scattered around the gigantic room. Of course he followed her. Gods forbid that she may be left alone for a second.

They both took their seat at the opposite end of the table, facing each other. She leaned back in her cushioned seat, her eyes focusing on the engraved wooden table. It had patterns in all sorts of twirling shapes, they looked much like thorns. For being underground, the library was well lit-up by both the blue lanterns and the normal candlelights that lined the tables. It all gave her a sense of comfort. They both sat in silence for only a few seconds, though it felt longer for she could practically feel his eyes on her. Sigrid stifled a sigh as she looked up to meet his gaze.

"Is it not awfully rude to stare, sire?"

He merely raised his brows in a rather unimpressed manner.

"Am i making you uncomfortable?"

She nonchalantly looked away. "No, not particularly."

He leaned back and crossed his legs, fixing her with a stare that could almost be called a glare.

"It is a great offence to lie to a king, didn't your father teach you that?"

She gave him a small smile, not a sincere one by any stretch of the imagination. However, for some reason she felt more daring, like she was testing out the waters.

"No, he taught me much more useful things. Besides, you are no king of mine."

His face remained motionless, lest for a slight tick of his eyebrow and a barely noticeable curl of his lip. It was unnatural... it reminded her of some sort of serpent or lizard, doing a poor job on mimicking human behaviour (or in this case elvish behaviour). She did know that elves tended to express themselves in different ways compared to most other beings, they are not known for being that emotional. This, however was over the top... Thranduil had mastered the art of the stone face, cold blooded psychopath.

"What makes you say that, Sigrid?"

She shivered at the way he said her name, it was like it started with a hiss and ended with a growl. Subtle though but still there, like a warning, a little red light. His face stayed the same though. Aloof, cold, smug and fabricated at the same time.

"Well I belong to another kingdom don't i? Besides, the Laketown people were never your subjects either way," she answered, straightening her back and thanking the gods for the sturdy table between them.

The scar on his face twitched as he scoffed at her, his teeth seemed sharper but she knew for a fact that elves did not have fangs.

"So you are still under the impression that i will simply let you go after all this? How naive. If the ring can't be separated from you -an outcome that seems more and more realistic by the hour- Then there is no difference between the two of you. The ring belongs to me, it even obeys my commands. You are only its vessel, its host. This is a fact you will simply have to live with and you have no one else to blame but yourself." His tune stayed low and balanced as he spoke.

He had changed his position and sat now tilted over the table, leaning on his elbows and clasping his hands. She felt like someone had dropped a stone in her stomach, keeping her still and in place.

"Mark my words, little Sigrid, the moment you slid that ring on, you sealed your fate. Just like the ring, you yourself also belongs to me now and I tend to keep my possessions close. After all, everything i own is in woodland realm."

She wouldn't cry, she refused to, but it was hard when his words sneaked up under her skin like little ants. Passing through her ears like poison and repeating themselves like an ominous echo in her skull. It couldn't be true, it just could not be. She would never leave her family and her family would certainly not stand for this. They would never allow it and she is pretty sure, Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond couldn't endorse such a thing either. One thing is for sure, her father would wage war for her and surely Kili and even Fili, the soon-to-be crowned king of Erebor wouldn't leave her hanging either.

These conclusions calmed her somewhat but it still left her shaky, her eyes stung with unshed tears. Anything could happen and her doubts still refused to go away.

"That will never work out," she got out with a hoarse and tense voice.

To her relief, he never grazed her with a response for the two elves from earlier came back. They dropped off merely two pair of yellowed documents, tied together with a darkened ribbon. It was filled with elvish writing and a few painted pictures. It would seem that they didn't have anything in Westron after all... She wanted to make her distress known to them, the consequences be damned, but she didn't get the opportunity as they quickly walked away. The two elves exited the library and closed the doors behind them. She didn't like that at all.

"Where are they going?" She swallowed thickly, nearly not getting the words out.

"Somewhere else, i told them to leave us alone earlier," Thranduil answered absentmindedly as he looked through the documents.

"Why?" she nearly demanded, not keen on being alone with him for any second longer.

Sigrid made to stand up but as she'd gotten halfway up from her chair, her ring acted up. It sent her a wave of spiked heat, like some electric shock. It was clear what it wanted and on their own accord, her knees bent and she sat down again. Instead of looking to her trinket, her eyes snapped up to him. She knew it was his doing. The elvenking himself only smirked at her, albeit a bit sternly.

"I did not allow you to leave now, did i?"

She opened her mouth but only got out a crestfallen puff, her eyes wide like a pair of eggs. He stood up and strode over to her seated form, taking a seat at her right.

"As your King, i see it as my duty to correct your childish and misbehaving antics. If you want to be taken seriously, i suggest you do as i say. Willingly, without me having to abuse the ring's influence. Believe it or not but It's primary function isn't to be a mere slave."

She tried to steer her thoughts onto anything else but the fact that he was way too close to her. The documents barely made a sound as he put them down one the table in front of her.

"What other functions would it have then? I certainly haven't noticed anything other than blind obedience." she said, her jaw clenched.

"Well we're here to correct that aren't we? Now what do you know about the Valar?"

She was briefly taken aback by his blunt question but tried to make as much sense as she could, she needed to be honest.

"I don't know much about them... Many of my people see them as myths and legends, although i know of the greater human kingdoms who are more religious in their belief of them. But i know they stand as the gods of our world."

He raised his eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You don't think of them as myths do you?" He sounded quite judgmental.

She quickly shook her head. "Lady Galadriel spoke of them as if they were real so..."

"Well they most certainly are, they reside far away in a place called Valinor. They can pretty much act as the gods of this world but all of Arda as well as the Valar themselves were created by the being known as Eru Ilúvatar. In a sense, he is the one true god," Thranduil explained rather bluntly and Sigrid became all the more aware of her general ignorance.

"So... Are they like some sort of elf?" she hesitantly asked and braced herself for she expected to be grilled for her lack of knowledge.

To her surprise, none of that occurred.

"You shouldn't be afraid of asking questions, Sigrid. The Valar are neither elves nor men but that of ancient spiritual beings known as the Ainur. The lords of the Valar are seven and the ladies of Valar are also seven. Lesser spiritual beings of the Ainur are called Maia and they exist as different helpers, servants and subjects to the Valar. The Valars you should concern yourself with are Aulë, Yavanna, Nienna, Irmo Lórien and Estë, as they are the creators of your ring. The first three are counted amongst the Aratar which are the eight greatest of the Valar."

And thus, Sigrid focused on Thranduil's voice as he explained to her. Knowing everything by heart, his eyes seemed to rarely leave her face. Overtime, as she leeched up the information, her muscles became less tense and she felt herself become increasingly interested. It felt much like a fairy tail and the fact that it was all real, made her almost giddy with excitement. Like she was but a child. All of this was too much... it was too big for her simple mind to conceptualize.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **So i will try to keep this short and sweet since the chapter already is so long. I have been absent for some time now but i have been reading all of your lovly reviews and honestly, it gives me plenty of motivation to keep this story going! But i do have a favour to ask, if any of you are interested in helping any way you can with this story, just let me know in the comments below. I do have a rough idea of where i want to take this story but i am always open for new ones, let me know if you have any suggestions! Happy reading and happy easter!

**Chapter 9**

"I should probably summarise these five Valar as you don't know the first thing about them. All of their abilities were necessary for the creation of all you see around you. Aulë for example was called Aulë the smith and he helped shape the world and create the substances of which it was composed of. It is he who created the dwarves. The ring, however were forged by the smiths of Aulë and not the Valar himself, although he blessed the ring's carnelian surface to be beyond sturdy and to never rust or scar. Meanwhile, his wife Yavanna the Queen of the earth, who is often called the giver of fruits as she was responsible for all the growing things. The mighty Ents were created by Eru on her behalf as she feared her beloved trees might risk being cut down by the ever growing population of the dwarves. Yavanna blessed the ring with the essence of growth and the blooming of earthly organisms. It is said that she plucked the rays from the newly created sun and made the ring lustre with warmth. Heat that came in the form of protection and comfort."

He suddenly switched over to the documents and read aloud.

"Nienna, The lady of mercy brought forth the beginnings of grief and sorrow into the world. She watered the world with her tears and as such, helped with the creation of the sun and the moon. Her gift to the ring came in the form of emotional assaults. Of grief, pity and sorrow. Although in the wake of what might be seen as a curse, came that of the endurance of the spirit, wisdom and compassion." He looked at her and met her eyes. "So if you ever find yourself crying over things you wouldn't normally shed tears over, you know what is to blame."

She didn't know what to say to that, too busy taking everything in and so he continued.

"Irmo Lórien is the brother of Nienna and husband of Este. He is the master of dreams, visions and illusions. Together with his wife, they changed the mind of the high Valar Varda, as she had intended for the sun and the moon to be ever aloft. It is on their behalf that the sun sets in time for the night to take its place. Lothlórien, the home of Lady Galadriel is named after him. His gift to the ring was the ability to unmask illusions and the fore sight of both visions and dreams. His Wife Estë is responsible for the healing of the hurt and weary, in both body and soul. She is best known for tending to the body of queen Miriel -the deceased wife of an elven high king called Finwe. She saw so that her body never decomposed of withered. She blessed the ring with the healing of wounds and the relief of bodily pain."

After a while, Sigrid opened her mouth, her mind spinning with questions upon questions. A headache blossomed at the center of her brain.

"Why would they create the ring in the first place? I mean, i doubt it was for fun."

"All that i know is that it served as a price to be won as they held some sort of competition or tournament for the first elves in Valinor. It is recorded that the one who won the ring was called Langion. The ring stayed in his family for centuries until his last living descendant -whose name was Aldon Raundion- passed the ring onto my father Oropher who later lost it, way back before he founded the woodland realm."

"Lost it... did he forget where he put it?"

Thranduil wanted to facepalm at her dimwittedness. "No it was most likely stolen."

She nodded, fair enough.

"But what about all those blessings and gifts? I mean is it not a bit too much, wouldn't it make someone a bit overpowered and even so, i certainly haven't seen any of these gifts in practice yet," she said, briefly looking down at the red trinket.

"The only thing the ring have been proven to do so far is to see through minor illusions and have often unclear visions. Rarely has it been able to heal wounds and when it has, the wounds certainly hadn't been any major ones. This was the case before you showed up, now it has proved itself to have some more tricks."

"Tricks?"

Thranduil heaved a sigh. Did he really have to spell it out for her?

"Well not only has it been able to see through my glamour" -he gestured to his face- "which is a rather sturdy work of illusion, but it also gives away heat and that heat can hurt people when it feels threatened. So there you have Yavanna's gift from the sun, a promise of warmth and protection but you also have Estë's gift of numbing the pain of bodily wounds."

It looked like he wasn't done talking but as he brought up all things the ring had done for her Sigrid remembered her incident in the woods, when she was ambushed.

"It healed my wounds too actually," she chipped in before the opportunity passed her.

"What? When?" he demanded, his thick eyebrows creased themselves in a rather critical way.

"Um after the ambush, i know i ripped open my hands on bushes and thorns as i escaped but when i looked them over afterwards, not even a scar could be seen."

"Why didn't you tell me this? he asked her, noticeable irked.

"Nevermind that, i don't actually know why. Do you think i can use the other gifts as well? Can i learn how to coax them out of hiding?"

"That may come in due time, you should focus on exercising control over the more apparent abilities first. I did tell you that you will learn here how to dispel illusions and what not, if you behave i might take it up with Lord Elrond at dinner."

Her lips thinned a bit as she started to bite her lip, unconsciously. The only answer he got was a tight nod, she believed she was rather well behaved, at least as well behaved she could be against someone like him. It was strange how he could be so frightening but intriguing enough for her to lower her guard. She felt a false sense of security with him at times like this, when he wasn't particularly riled up.

Sigrid had to be mindful of the fact that he was still the same elf that had practically ambushed her in her sleep. Still, she couldn't help herself, as she wanted to know more of the Valar and their Maiar. She wanted to hear more of Arda's creation and of Eru Ilúvatar.

"Can you tell me more of the Valar and the Maia? Which ones make up the Aratar and do all of them live in Valinor or do some of them live here in Middle earth? Where even is Valinor?"

She hoped it wasn't too much to ask, seeing as she had to stop herself from rambling on. A bit surprisingly, he actually went along with it. He fluently wove her a tale with words that seemed to come alive as he spoke them. Effortlessly, he could put pictures in her head with his detailed descriptions. Not too much but not too little as her attention never swayed. He told her of the remaining Valars he hadn't touched on before, beginning with those of the Aratar, and later on moved on to some of their outstanding Maiar.

He told her of the king of the Valar, their leader Manwë Súlimo. He is the ruler of the skies and controls the wind. Due to that, he is often called the wind-king. His wife, the queen of the Valar, is called Varda Elentari who is the lady of stars. She is beloved by the elves who call her Elbereth. Together they were the highest of the Valar and the first two members of the Aratar. Both Manwë and Varda resides in a mansion called Ilmarin. It is seated upon the peak of Taniquetil which is the highest mountain in all of Arda, located in Valinor.

Their Maia included Eönwë the banner-bearer of Manwë and Ilmarë the handmaiden of Varda, they are regarded as the chiefs of the Maiar. Another prominent Maia of both Varda and Manwë is Olórin or Gandalf the grey as he is know on middle earth. He was sent to middle earth together with five other Maiars to form the order known as the Istari. Sigrid had wanted him to elaborate on the Istari but he never did and she didn't want to interrupt him either.

Second after Varda (in the line of the Aratar) came Ulmo, the king of the sea. Ulmo was the only Valar known not to have taken up residence in Valinor for he would much rather dwell beneath the waves of Vaiya in his palace called Ulmonan. Ulmo had a many Maiars but one of the most notable was Uinien, the lady of the sea. She was a lover of all sea creatures and it is said that her hair spread throughout the waters, floating around on their surfaces. She is the wife to Osse, another one of Ulmo's Maia. Osse often had a habit of spurring up the waves only for his more stable wife to calm them, and in turn himself.

Then there was Yavanna, Queen of the earth, and after her, Aulë the smith. A great Maia of Yavanna was Aiwendil allthough he is better known as Radagast the brown as he is one of the Istari that roam the lands of middle earth. Curumo, who is a Maia of Aulë, also belongs to the Istari and he is known as Saruman the white.

Thereafter came Námo who is also called Mandos. The doomsman of the Valar. He is the keeper of the dead as his task is to judge the souls of the dead elves as they all travel to his domain upon their demise. He dwells in a place called the Halls of Mandos. He is also responsible for passing out judgement in Eru's name directly under Manwë. After Namo came his younger sister Nienna for both he and Irmo were both her elder brothers, with Námo being the oldest of the three and Nienna being the youngest.

The lady of mercy resides within the Halls of Nienna, in the far western point of Valinor near the halls of Mandos. The halls of Nienna has several large windows that would look out beyond the shrouded night. There she would sit in her chair and stare at the dark waves at the brim of the unknown, mourning for the suffering of life. Later on came Oromë, the last of the Aratar. He is responsible for the hunt and is therefore called the great rider as well as the huntsman of the Valar.

Thus, they all made up the Aratar, the eight greatest of the Valar who lived on a continent called Aman that lies to the far west. Valinor, the undying lands which only the elves, the firstborns had access to. After all, -he had said to her- Men are set to inherit middle earth, as Eru's second born. In due time but not too quickly, the elves will all feel the need to depart and sail west.

The remaining Valar, those not of the Aratar are still important, though they weren't the greatest. There was Nessa the swift, sister of Oromë and wife of the Valar Tulkas, who was the champion of the Valar, often called the wrestler. There was Vána the ever young, wife of Oromë and little sister of Yavanna. Last of them were Vairë, wife or Namo and weaver of Arda's history. Her storied webs and woven tapestries clothed the halls of Mandos where she lived.

Sigrid looked like she was in a mesmerised and almost dream-like state as he spoke. Though, her quietness gave off an attentive impression, as she surely was. He could go on with the story forever almost but he was hesitant of what he should include or not. He didn't even want to bring up the first dark lord Morgoth and the reigning second: Sauron, the whole reason for the arrival of the Istari.

For some reason, he felt that she needed to read up on that herself and he in general felt too troubled to speak of it. It brought back the looming threat of the dark lord, the great eye. It reminded him of the fact of his return and it left him feeling sick with disgust and age-old rage. As she eventually asked him about the Istari and why she herself as a mortal could not go to Valinor, he raised his eyebrow and rose from his seat.

"I'll tell the librarians of what you seek of and they will hand you a book or two on the subject, i'm quite certain that there are some in Westron here. I have other things to do."

With that he took his leave and all he could hear was a faint "Thank you" as the doors to the library closed behind him. After informing the two librarians, he went on his way. Thranduil knew that he needed to find Galadriel as she was the only one here, fully capable of sensing the Valars presence and thus confirming the lore of the ring. After all, it had its perks, being born and bred in Valinor, the land of the gods.

...

She didn't want to start on the book just yet, she knew she needed to write to her family. The thick, leather-clad book was heavy as she pushed it to the side and rose up in search of some paper. The table already had a bottle of ink with a feather-pen in it so papyrus scrolls was the only thing she needed. The two elves only came in to hand her the book and later on seemed to go up in smoke. Well, they had to be around here somewhere but she sure as hell couldn't see them.

"Hello...?" she hesitantly bit out, stepping around the table and further into the library.

They had to hide somewhere amongst the bookshelves... for some reason. With that in mind and with no answer to her call, she ventured away from her place by the table. It took some time but she eventually found some small shelves with unused rolls of paper. Taking two of the scrolls she went back to her table and went to work. Of course, she soon noticed that she couldn't write anything about Thranduil and the... strange way the ring seemed to gravitate towards him.

She figured that she should focus on reassuring the reader above all. So she went on to tell Da of how attentive and polite the elves were, of how beautiful Rivendell was and how good the food was. Anything to paint a picture of normality, a cheerful reassurance. Half-heartedly, she explained that the elves still hadn't figured out what to do about her ring but nothing was for certain yet. Sigrid addressed the fact of the ring's origins and the nature of its abilities.

However, she was quick to stress that it would be more fitting to tell them the details in person. She should be back in no more than half a week or so... although she left out the fact that she was unsure whether or not she would be going back to Erebor or if she would be taken directly to the woodland realm. She didn't want to worry her family about such troubles. She ended her letter with questions about their wellbeing, about Tilda and how the construction of both Dale and Erebor were faring.

Carefully -as to not mess up her work- she blew on the ink and put it on to the side to dry. Now she could finally read the book. And read it she did, it coaxed her interest little by little, page after page. She read about the creation of the dwarves and she only skimmed through the pages about the first war between the elves, the infamous kin-slaying. It was all terribly complicated but at least she could put together a brief summary. One part that really interested her were the different kinds of elves. Sylvan, Sindar, Vanyar, Noldor, Falmari and the Avari. Their differences were like a complex net but at least she got the hang of it.

The vanyar were the rarest of the elves, they were the first ones to awake and the very first to step foot in Valinor. These elves never left the lands of the gods, if the couldn't help it. Their hair were golden, skin fair and their banners white and to this day they are considered as the most pure of the Eldar. Ingwe was their king and he is recognised as the high king of all elves in Arda.

Then there were the Noldor, the high elves that would follow King Finwe. These elves are often called the deep elves or those with knowledge. Just like the Vanyar, they too were of the high elves who lived in Valinor. They were great in their craftsmanship and built many famous artifacts throughout Arda's history. Many of them were servants of Aulë the smith and they were only matched in their skill by the dwarves. They stood tall with dark, red or even silver hair paired with white skin. After the years of the trees, they would spread across middle earth and take part in many big wars.

Another branch of elves are called the Teleri. The Teleri came forth from both the Vanyar and the Noldor and they split into many groups, depending on which ones made it to the land of the gods. The Teleri elves that made it to Valinor (for now at least) were called the Falmari, otherwise known as the sea elves. They were the latest and largest group to reach the shores of Aman. The Falmari tarried behind on the shores of middle earth, searching for their lost king Elwë (later known as Thingol).

The Maia Ossë kept them company while they waited and thus became their friend. He convinced his lord Ulmo to ancor an island by the edge of Aman and in due time, the sea elves built their capital there. Overtime, the Falmari began to adore the sea and eventually they learned how to build their own ships and thus could finally sail to the mainland of Valinor. The sizeable group of the Teleri that began their journey to Valinor but stopped or departed along the way are split into two separate groups depending on their location.

The Sindar elves are the elves that split up from the Falmari are stayed behind on the shores of middle earth to look for their lost leader Elwë. Eventually Elwë returned to his people and the reason for his disappearance was due to him meeting his future wife in the woods. It had been Melian, a maia of Vána and Estë, who had enchanted him for years in the forests of Nan Elmoth and once they emerged together as married, Elwë took the name of Thingol and gathered up his remaining elves to form the kingdom of Doriath.

The Sylvan elves were the first lot that departed from the Teleri long before they split into Sindar and Falmari. They left the company and lingered behind in the woods of east Beleriand. Sindar elves are considered more Noble than Sylvan ones. These elves are called the woodelves and green-elves. Together, they formed the Silvan kingdom of the woodland realm, located in the greenwood the great (now called Mirkwood) The ruling family of that kingdom are of Sindarin descent from the ancient kingdom of Doriath.

Now that was interesting, king Thranduil was a Sindar elf, she guessed she really shouldn't be surprised at that notion. She was about to go back to the register in order to find the pages that detailed the fate of Doriath and its subjects but halted in her motion. She hadn't read about the Avari yet. So another group of the Teleri were called the Avari, otherwise known as the dark elves. Perhaps the saddest of the bunch. They were the ones that refused the invitation to the holy land for they were scared of the Valars might. It is speculated that the evil Ainur and Vala Morgoth manipulated them into this mindset.

They stayed behind and did not begin any journey and because of that, they are not counted amongst the eldar. Most of them journeyed east but those that stayed behind eventually became kin to the Sylvan elves. All though it would take time for them to be completely accepted into their midst and thus, many of the Avari stayed isolated and alone in deep woods and caves. Those that traveled east and presumably those that isolated themselves in the woods, were probably captured by Morgoth and turned into the first orcs. Either that or they joined him willingly. Not many pureblooded Avaris are left to this day and few are those who really integrated and joined the other elves.

Sigrid pushed Doriath to back of her mind as her head spun webs of new questions... The orcs were once elves? How is that even possible and who in the wide world is Morgoth? She knew she had come across that name before in the kin-slaying, but now, it seemed more relevant to actually look it up. For some reason, her mouth was dry like sand dunes and a lump formed in the pit of her stomach. Going back to the register, she searched for the pages on Morgoth and as she found them, she almost wished she'd remained blissfully ignorant.

Why didn't Thranduil tell her about this? Doriath laid now forgotten as she read about the forsaken Valar and just what part he had played in the history of Arda. The first dark lord, master of Sauron and the one responsible for the orcs, dragons and giant spiders of the world. The one who shaped Mordor and all the evils within it, everything that existed in her old storybooks from when she was but a child. The stories that used to give her nightmares, nightmares she never told anyone about.

Those childhood fears and fantasies came back to her as she read of Morgoth's existence and the library around her seemed to dim down, as if the shadows started to climb up over the walls, growing larger and larger. Word by word and sentence by sentence, her discomfort grew until she had to close the book in favour of staring into the gentle candle light. The candle had almost burned down and she felt like she had to leave soon. To return above ground and feel the sun on her face.

...

Lady Galadriel stood tall on one of the trademark Rivendell balconies, braiding some elleth's hair. Upon further inspection, It turned out to be Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar of her people, Elrond's spawn and the granddaughter of Galadriel. Of course, the lady of light already knew of his presence, although the dark-haired elleth was not as observant as she was keen on rambling on about the latest happenings in Dale. The last time he had seen her, she had been a mere child, tripping over her skirts to chase after her two older brothers. Both Elladan and Elrohir were away at a hunting trip so it would explain their absence at this time.

"I never took King Thranduil as someone overly generous but maybe i was wrong..." the elleth's words faded away as Galadriel bent down to her shoulder and whispered something in her ear, probably informing her of his arrival.

He briefly wondered how much the young elf knew of the messy business that surrounded his visit to Rivendell.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, King Thranduil?" Galadriel's voice cut out like a calm breeze as she bid her granddaughter to stand up.

Arwen mumbled out a greeting at his entrance and curtsied, hiding her face in her locks. Maybe she was embarrassed over the fact that he had seemingly heard of her talks. He gave her mere nod in response before directing his attention to the lady of light.

"I came to exchange words with you my lady. In private if i may."

She nodded easily and squeezed Arwen's shoulder. "We will catch up later child, get back to your weaving now," she said and thus the elleth gave a tight nod and a small smile, slightly bowing one last time in his directing before taking her leave.

She was probably relieved at being excused. They both stood now by the stone railings, observing the waterfall and rivers below.

"So what did you want to speak about?" she asked looking into his eyes, a tad bit unearthly.

He broke their eye contact, not being too keen on her looking into his head, although she probably didn't even need eye contact for such a thing.

"I want you to tell me if you sensed something from the ring... Tell me, are those legends true?" he said, focusing his gaze on some spot right above her head.

She was quiet for a while, her blue eyes looked to be far away yet present at the same time.

"So you doubt the writings?"

He did not know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet, his face stoney. She almost sighed.

"They are true, at least to some extend. I could clearly sense the Valars influence, Nienna being the most apparent one but it was rather difficult to pinpoint the other ones, but not impossible. Most of their blessings and abilities are still hidden... though they are indeed present. Nevertheless, Nienna seems to be more influential than the others."

"Alright then," Thranduil heaved out, he could already feel a headache coming. "We will stay here for at most a week. I hope you will have enough time to be more sure of your stance."

"You are free to leave whenever you want, King Thranduil. Sigrid is actually the one that would have to stay," Galadriel told him with a pleasant smile that seemed to scream "What's your intentions?".

"The ring is rightfully mine and i prefer to keep my belongings close. Truth to be told, I don't see any hope of Sigrid and ring being separated at this point and maybe that's for the best. After all, the ring seems to thrive on her finger."

Her mouth stood slightly ajar as she took in his words and the meaning behind them. What could almost be called a frown, then marred her face and her eyes narrowed into the shapes of almonds.

"So you're meaning to take Sigrid with you to the woodland realm? Away from her family and soon her own kingdom?"

He could tell that a layer of thin contempt discreetly coated her words.

"Well, at some point you have to ask yourself if you are even comfortable with a relic of the Valar themselves, in the hands of a pair of fishermen that don't know the first thing about the Valar's magic. Something as astounding and unique as the ring, should be kept in hands of those who know what they are dealing with. Should any... abnormalities happen with ring whilst it rests in Sigrids grasp, the only people who could hope to assist her or even understand the situation, would be of the Eldar," he monotonously explained, turning his back to her as a sign of the finality of their conversation.

It was bold of him, seeing as though he may be a king, Lady Galadriel was still one of the oldest and definitively the wisest elf east of Aman. She is a high elf of both the Noldor and Vanyar. Youngest daughter of the current high king of the Noldor, Finarfin and Thranduil knew that logically speaking he did stand below her in status. Thus, he turned and gave her a pleasant smile, a fake politeness, a charade he was practically born with.

"I hate to take up your time with your granddaughter, i take it that you don't see each other too often yes?"

She gave him a false smile, agreeing with the act.

"That is correct, it's been quite a while since i got to sit down and speak with her in a heart-to-heart manner."

"I certainly won't stand in the way for that. I surely hope you will get the same opportunity with your grandsons as well. I heard they are away at a hunting trip at the moment?" he inquired politely enough, considering the fact that small talk wasn't his speciality, he was doing pretty well.

"Yes, their trip will probably last for at least a few more days. Nevertheless, i will be here for them when they return," Galadriel answered matching his politeness with that of her own.

"Well then, i won't take up too much of your time. I will take my leave now," he addressed as he started to turn around.

Lady Galadriel gave him a smile in return as the sun caught the light of her hair, making it shimmer into pure gold. It wasn't exactly fake this time but it still did not reach her all-knowing eyes. "Will you return to Sigrid now? It might be unwise to leave her alone here in Rivendell. After all, if she decides to wander off somewhere, she will surely get lost."

"I'll keep an eye on her," was all he said as he started to take his leave.

"Thranduil," her voice halted his steps. "I hope you realise, that if anything... indecent were to happen to Sigrid, now that she is in your care, I would have to get involved."

His lips thinned a bit at that, was she threatening him? He briefly wondered what her definition of indecent was...

"Of course, i would have done the same," he promptly said, a tad bit icy as he walked away.

It seemed that even something as small as to share a few words with the lady of light, had to be complicated. When he returned to the library, Sigrid was nowhere to be found. The librarians were just as clueless and they kept on talking over each other in a vain hope that somehow they were not to blame.

"She's a child of man, sire! You know how impulsive they can be, certainly when they are so young, i'm sure she mustn't have gotten far," the elleth said in one breath, clutching her skirt nervously.

"Besides, We never actually knew that we would have to watch over her..." the male elf said as well, standing by the elleth's shoulder.

They were obviously siblings. Maybe twins since he could hardly tell them apart if one of them hadn't been wearing a dress. He gave them one last stare as he stepped over to the table where he'd previously left Sigrid. The book he had left her with laid still wide open on the table. As he noticed the contents of the page she was on, he could feel another headache forming. The Chapter was named "The orgins of Melkor and the rise of Morgoth".

By just skimming over parts of text, he could establish that it went in-depth on who he had been and what he had created, the chaos he had sprung forth from. Of course she would find this information. He should have told her about this himself when he had the chance. Now, who knows how she may view the world, after all... he thought of her as an easily frightened bird, prone to letting her emotions control her. Obviously, with the influence of the ring, specifically Nienna's influence, such reactions were not to be unexpected.

He would have to locate her right away, lest she would like to be a caged bird in the future. He left the two useless librarians in a controlled fit of rage. He didn't actually know where to start but obviously Sigrid would try to retrace their steps back to the gardens. She would probably get lost on the way of course. Suddenly an idea came to mind, couldn't he just will the ring to steer her back to him? Or maybe he could at least make use of it to locate her... Either way it was worth a try.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Hey my lovely folks! So i know i have been on quite the hiatus, albeit a necessary one. But I'm back now, maybe not for good but at least I have the motivation to post this so kudos for that at the very least. I have been dealing with lots of stuff these past weeks i guess and it has taken a toll on my health. So know not to overwork myself but yeah imma do it anyways lmao **

**Anyways, sorry if this chapter is terribly bland but there just isn't going to happens lots of super exciting stuff while Sigrid is in Rivendell. The juicy stuff happens when she leaves it, so hang on until then! I don't know when the next update will be but you are probably used to my irregular schedule at this point. Happy reading!**

**Chapter 10**

She needed to find some sort of postman, a servant of sorts that had the job of delivering messages. She knew that nobles often had their own private servant for such things, whilst the common folks had to hire a local messenger. She didn't quite know where she would find someone willing to help her... She couldn't speak elvish, she didn't even know where to go or what to say. She was too shy.

As such, Sigrid decided to wander around, aimlessly it seemed. She had tried to retrace her steps back to the garden and it hadn't been successful so far. Somehow, she had managed to end up in an unknown hallway. It was quite narrow with pastel blue walls, engraved with small green roots and thorns. She must have taken a wrong turn in one of the stairwells.

The hallway laid halfway outdoors with glass-less windows, letting the wind and sunlight in. It was designed in a balcony-like manner and at the end of it, great pillars took shape to form a pathway to the outside. She knew that she was nearing people, not so faint voices could be heard, rising in volume the closer she got to the end of it. Tightly holding her letter with both hands, she looked out the windows as she walked.

Sigrid thought that she must be in a whole other place. Down below, past the white stairs, laid an enormous courtyard and at the centre of it was an obvious marketplace. She could at least spy a bakery, a smith, stables packed with horses, bookshops, weaving and tailoring business, clothing stores, small supermarkets and even a glassblowing-production factory. She would make the assessment that here dwelled the middle class of Rivendell... By human standards, this would be the wealthy middle class, at the very least.

Those of noble descent would often live close by the main palace or court of ruling. At least, that's how the civilisations of men worked and she doubted the elvish system were that different. The buildings and houses looked sophisticated and elegant but simple and homely at the same time. There were lots of wood and stone structures in pure ivory, as their oval roofs were decorated in different shades of blue, green, red, purple and yellow. Even some of the windows were coloured. Every house had their respective gardens and decorative fountains.

Really, it all looked so strangely clean. From the spotless cobblestones on the ground to the very faces of the elves that went about doing their daily chores. They were all tall and regal, dressed in clothes that looked to be formal but casual at the same time. It seemed that the elvish common folks, had the same status as a human noble, at least in Rivendell.

"Díheno men, nín brennil?" a voice broke out at her side, waking her from her intense observation of elves in domestic life.

Sigrid couldn't help but to jump in alarm as she stared up at the two elvish men looming over her. Moving a bit to the side as an automatic response, her wretched mouth were about to betray her and she almost stuttered out a confused "Excuse me?". She could hardly get a good look at them as they promptly strode by her and she realised that they had probably asked for her to move to the side. She stared after them as they walked off and disappeared into an alleyway.

Turning back to the view of the courtyard, Sigrid pondered on whether or not she should continue her exploration. She dearly wanted to buy something but she didn't have any money on her, let alone any elvish currency. Did elves even have a different currency from men? Before she even had time to ponder about it, a familiar sensation settled around her limbs, like warm shackles. All of sudden, her ring started to heat up and shone more brightly than before.

Sigrid tried not to outright panic as her feet began to move on their own accord. "What, what even..." she breathed out in disbelief as she sensed her self-control slipping away. She would never get used to this, this loss of control. She was being steered like a marionette, stiffly walking back the way she came from. Frantically, she looked around, her eyes searching wildly for the person she knew to be responsible for this. Her nimble fingers almost crumbled the letter she had in her hands.

She passed out of the pastel-blue hallway and turned left, straight down an unknown stairwell. She hadn't taken these stairs before. They were quite narrow and much too steep for her taste, she couldn't see where she was going as they curved themselves into an even spiral. As such, she wasn't ready for the person meeting her halfway down. They seemed to come out of nowhere and her face made contact with a broad chest. It was hard like stone and she let out an "Ouch" as she was slammed backwards, tripping over her feet.

She ended up on the ground, the jagged edge of stairs, uncomfortably cut into her lower back. Sigrid looked up at the elf as she stayed seated on the ground, she had to crane her neck in an extreme position in order to make out his face, he was simply that tall. She probably only went up to his knees in this manner.

"What do you want?" she almost spat out at Thranduil, her face red from embarrassment as she tried in vain to flatten out the wrinkles in her letter.

"You. I've been looking for you, should i really have to tell you not to wander off? I thought it was obvious, even for the weaker minds," he snapped at her, looking down at her slumped form.

She could tell he was irritated, quite a bit so. Grabbing a hold of the railing, she pulled herself to her feet, only reaching up to his chest. It was moments like this that she wished she was taller.

"Did you do that? Did you just compell my own feet?" she almost barked at him, knowing the answer but dreading it all the same.

"Of course, who else would it be? I didn't expect such a success though, so that's pleasing." He gave her a smirk, a self-satisfied one that seemed to taunt her with its jagged edges.

Her eyes stung with tears that she would not let fall. She wasn't exactly sad though, maybe mournful for her future but most of all, she was angry. Sigrid didn't usually cry from rage but that seemed to not be the case anymore.

"Y-you have literally taken away my freedom, my rights as an individual..." she forced out as her breath hitched and trembled in her rage.

Thranduil only raised his dark eyebrows and grabbed her elbow. "Stop being so melodramatic," he hissed at her, his breath foaming over her ear as he pushed her forward down the stairs.

She had never felt so violated before and a sudden surge of fury washed over her, all of sudden she snapped: "You're horrible!" her voice echoing and bouncing of the walls of the staircase.

To her surprise, he didn't seem too bothered by her outburst, only mildly annoyed.

"And you're overly emotional," he stated as he continued dragging her down the staircase, the grip on her elbow started to feel a tad bit too tight.

Suddenly he stopped his descent and turned to her lithe figure. Looking down on her, she leaned as far away as possible, clutching her letter. The tears that she had held at bay, started to trail down her cheeks against her will.

"You need to act at least remotely normal when we leave these stairs, so i would have you stop crying now," Thranduil said in a monotone tone but with amused eyes.

His eyes became even more amused as he witnessed the effect of his command. The tears in her eyes started to dry up and her breath hitched as the rosiness in her eyes dulled down into their usual state. Her cheeks lost their red hue and became smooth once more without any evidence of tear-shedding. She didn't feel remotely better though.

"There's a good girl," he said with a snide leer as he grabbed the letter from her hand.

"T-that's for my father... I haven't written about anything I know not to mention," she blurted out in alarm as he ripped open the envelope with one slender finger and scanned her written words.

He stayed quiet for a while as he read it through.

"It seems you are telling the truth, you can ask Lord Elrond later at dinner if he could conjure up a new envelope for you," he said as he folded the letter and handed it back to her.

"Can he help me with posting it as well?" she asked as they began walking again.

He pushed her in front of him and let go of her arm, as the stairs were too narrow for them to walk on either side.

"Yes, he will surely look around for a mailman for you," Thranduil said behind her as he placed a hand on her back, willing her to move faster down the stairs.

She gave him a look over her shoulder and gathered up her skirt as if to not trip all the way down the stairs. As they finally arrived at the bottom of the stairs and stepped out into a courtyard, she saw that sun had already started to set. The skies was slowly fading into a dull pink hue and the courtyard they had entered into looked to be empty for the most part. Aside from a couple of elves folding laundry off to the side of a great fountain.

Thranduil lead the way as they walked further and further away from the quiet elves, down a set of stairs towards a thin bridge, stationed over a coarcing river. She leaned over the railing and inspected the river as it flowed down into steep waterfall, connecting to a large pond that was hardly visible due to the surrounding mist.

"I would advise against that, these railings are not made for supporting the weight of any human," the elvenking warned her faintly over the sound of the river. Sigrid, loosened her grip on railing and leaned away, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Are you saying that elves weight less than humans?"

He scoffed as an amused smirk made itself at home on his lips. "You didn't know that?"

She tensed up slightly at the mocking tone of his voice.

"Well, how am I supposed to know that? It's not like I'm some sort of expert at elvish biology..." she muttered out as she followed him over the bridge.

They seemed to pass into some sort of garden, threading on a small road in between bushes and trees. Suddenly, she recognised herself. They were back in the garden of which she had met Galadriel, or at least, they were on their way back there, retracing their steps.

"I suppose you make some sense in that regard," Thranduil said as he glanced at her.

She raised her eyebrows and couldn't help but grin a little bit, as if she had just acquired some sort of victory.

"But if I weight more than you, how are you able to pick me up? This doesn't make much sense," Sigrid suddenly asked, lightly jogging up to his side.

"Well in case it wasn't obvious, I'm still stronger than you, if not as an elf, then as a male," he just said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Are elves naturally stronger than humans then?"

"Yes somewhat, the average elvish female will be a tad bit stronger than the average human female. It's not the same case with men though, as an elvish female will be weaker than a human male and the human male will in turn be weaker than the elvish male," he explained, meeting her eyes as she processed the information.

"So you're saying that basically, people like me are at the bottom of this... hierarchy, whilst people like you are at the top?" she questioned, although she already knew the answer.

This didn't sound safe at all. He smirked at her.

"Does that disturb you?" he asked as they came in sight of yet another stone bridge.

She elected to swiftly sneak past him, taking the lead. "No," she lied, looking behind her as she stomped ahead, "I still know I'm better than you on lots of other things."

"Oh really? Humour me," He shot back, he actually seemed quite entertained by her.

Sigrid thought his current mood was better than what she could have hoped for and she dearly didn't want to say or do anything that would ruin it. She knew all to well that she would be the only one suffering from it.

"Oh like cooking, cleaning, fishing, hunting rabbits, holding a polite conversation, doing laundry, decorating, sewing-" she began to ramble up all the things she could think of but stopped short as... complications arose.

They has now passed the bridge and Thranduil promptly took a step around her as she'd halted before him. He looked at her with a confused glint in his eye at her sudden silence. Sigrid paid little attention to that though as she swayed slightly back and forth. It had felt as if a large stone sat lodged inside throat forcing her to breathe and breathe and breathe but there seemed to not be enough air for her to consume. She breathed in through her nose but couldn't get it out of mouth.

Her head exploded in an aching throbbing pain as she started to feel lightheaded. She focused with all her might to breathe but could only manage so in small turns, small intakes of air through her nose, enough for her to live but still not enough. If she took in more air, she would writhe in pain. What's worse was the stomach ache. It had started small until it started to spread, eating up and gnawing on her insides. It felt like period pains but a tad bit worse. Like something was squeezing her rib cage, as if someone has put a foot through her chest. It hurt, badly so, suddenly so.

Gasping wildly for air, she panicked as slowly tried to sit down, but her knees failed her. A hand was on her back and another came around her front, preventing her from falling head first into the moss. Her pale hand trembled as she held her stomach, clutching at the smooth silk of the waistband. It all hit her like a sudden train wreck, slamming into her.

"Sigrid, hey, look at me."

Her head, rolled to the side, leaning on someone's chest. Her eyes fought their way up to Thranduil's face. He sat bent down, beside her, holding her tense and trembling frame.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said to her.

"I-I don't know..., it's h-hard to breathe," she forced out, her lips trembling with each word.

"Tell me how you feel then," he prodded.

Her pallid face gave a grimace as she tried to collect her thoughts. "I just felt exhausted all of sudden, my stomach aches and my head hurts, my- my head feels so heavy," she cautiously explained as her breath hitched.

"Alright, you didn't feel any of this before?" He asked as he reached down and picked up her letter from where she'd dropped it to the ground. He put it in his pocket.

"No... I may have had a headache but it all just hit me now," she breathed out, the dress felt a bit too tight across her chest and she tried to loosen the neckline to no avail.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Thranduil seemingly interrogated her.

"Only breakfast..." she said.

"No lunch?"

She looked up at with a confused frown.

"I normally don't need to eat lunch-," she explained but was promptly cut off.

"I may have forgotten to tell you this but as the ring keeps on leaching on your energy, so you will need to refuel yourself more often," he said in one breath and didn't wait for her reaction.

Instead, he picked her up and swung her over his shoulder. Sigrid couldn't help but scream in pain as his shoulder dug into her empty stomach. Her legs twitched as she tried desperately to rise her torso up, anything to release the pressure on her belly.

"Y-you can't carry me like this, it hurts, it hurts please let me down," she hurriedly said in one breath as her nails cut into his back.

He actually listened to her and as he began walking, she switched his hold on on her to a bridal-style. She heaved out a sigh and let her head fall backwards, extending the curve of her pallid neck. Her head swung back and forth with each step he took, her eyes focused on the glimpses of pinkness that peaked down at her through the green leaves. The fading light of the setting sun. Before long, she could feel herself floating further and further away. She blinked, once, twice and a third time. It became harder to open her eyes with each blink. Everything became blurred, like messy watercolours and before long, before she knew it, she blacked out.

Well, she truly couldn't say how long she'd been gone. If anything, it only felt like she'd closed her eyes for mere seconds longer than usual. When she opened eyes again, she soon came to realise that she was back in her dorm, on her bed. She still wore the same dress and the sky outside had bled into a bright orange, a stark difference from the pinkness before. She was alone and on her bedside table was a platter of fruit and bread and cheese, along with a glass of milk.

Sigrid didn't think twice of the matter and ungraciously started to scrape her plate clean. Her stomach growled and she didn't even know she was that hungry. She finished her meal in silence and emptied her cup. Sighing, she leaned back on her pillows and put a hand on her stomach, as if to soothe a little animal. She lazed around on her bed for another minute or two, before ultimately deciding to leave her room. Tharnduil couldn't be far away, after all, he was obviously the one who had brought her here in the first place. The door made no noise as she pushed it open. She found him in the hallway, right before the stairs.

Thranduil's hair looked impossibly white in the shadows, as he stood, inspecting a painting. She didn't want to disturb the soothing silence, so she quietly walked over to his side. He didn't address her, didn't acknowledge her existence but she knew, he knew she was there. The painting that seemed to have captivated him, was a rather peculiar one. It was of a lone, white elvish boat on a pool of water that reflected the starry skies above. The water was like a perfect mirror, giving off the illusion that the boat sailed amidst the stars, small and illuminating in the black sky.

It looked so serene, so achingly beautiful. She wondered how someone could create such artistic lines, how someone could create such feeling in their work. It screamed of solitude, somehow, someway.

"Have you eaten?" he asked her, startling her.

Sigrid dragged her eyes away from the painting to meet his cold, blue orbs.

"Yes," she answered.

"Everything?" he prodded.

"Everything," she assured him.

"Good girl, there's still some time before dinner, so we should take the time to post you letter," Thranduil said to her, his voice aloof and smooth.

Her heart skipped a beat and she became rather perplexed at his show of... of generosity.

"That would be great," she quickly said, a careful smile, clad her lips.

"Come on," was all he said as he turned around and started to descend the stairs.

She was hot on his heels.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Okey so I am incredibly sorry for the hiatus I took with this story. Especially since I do have lots of plots and plans for the future of this fic. It's just that I have lots of other fics to update as well, it has become very taxing to keep up with it all. Yet it's my own fault for trying to do it all at the same time haha It's like I honestly can't control my creative impulses at this point. I've never have been able to do that either way. Anyways, I do hope this chapter wasn't too dry, I don't know when I will be able to update this fic again, I need to do the other ones first probably. Either way, I am beyond blessed that i still have readers on this one, I feel terrible for letting you guys down like this, especially when I know there aren't many Sigrid/Thranduil fics out there. I certainly hope i can inspire some new ones!  
**

**Anyways, Happy reading to you folks and please remember that everything will be fine. **

**xoxoxo**

**Chapter 11**

She tailed Thranduil soundlessly as they went down hallways, throughout tunnels and whatnot. In the end, they found themselves at the very same courtyard that they had first arrived at when they came to Rivendell. The one leading out to the bridge of doom. There was an elf waiting for them there, already sitting on his horse.

Thranduil and the handsome elf exchanged words she couldn't understand, before he handed over her letter to the unnamed elf. He took it and put it away in his satchel. Without as much as a glance at her, he rode off and away, over the narrow bridge, disappearing into the thick mist.

"Who was that? The postman?" Sigrid asked.

He gave her a funny look as he once again took the lead. She followed quietly behind, casting glances over her shoulder.

"No, it was a courier of mine. He is quick and will be riding throughout the night, so he'll probably be at Erebor in the early morning," Thranduil explained to her as they ascended the stairs.

"That's good," she mused out loud and didn't get much of an answer.

That's even better, now that she thought of it.

**...**

Dinner consisted of wine, steak, potatoes, vegetables, bread, cheese and fruits. Bread, cheese and fruits seemed to be a standard when it came to elvish food. Sigrid was seated at the far right of the high table, right at the corner. She had Thranduil at her left, Galadriel in front of her, Arwen at her grandmothers side and Lord Elrond at the end of the table.

The dinner had been pleasant so far, no one had asked her any unnecessary questions. Galadriel and Elrond were the ones that spoke the most. Arwen mentioned something from time to time, but otherwise kept her mouth shut.

At first, when Sigrid had arrived at dinner, Elrond had introduced the two of them and she had felt incredibly shy. But the daughter of the lord of Rivendell had been nothing but pleasant to her. Arwen was ridiculously beautiful. She sported a lilac gown, glittery in the moonlight. Her hair was loose and long, her bangs, held up by small silver clips in the shape of butterflies. She looked regal and it was enough to make Sigrid feel like a sack of potatoes compared to her.

"Sigrid, how is the ring treating you so far?" The evenstar suddenly asked, taking a sip of her wine.

Sigrid swallowed down a mouthful of potatoes and cleared her throat. She wasn't prepared for the topic of discussion to switched to her. She hadn't even kept up with what the elves around her had been talking about. She nervously looked around to see them all staring at her, expecting her answer.

"Well... um it hasn't been very gracious towards me, it merely sees me as a host, nothing more and nothing less."

She took a sip of her wine, avoiding eye contact with the elleth.

"I heard it can heal wounds though, that has got to count for something right?" Arwen said, a tad bit optimistic, she was obviously trying to instill some sort of lighthearted comfort in the girl.

"Well yes, of course..." Sigrid managed back, daring a glance in her direction since she knew she was probably coming of as rude.

"I just think it's fascinating. My father talked quite a lot about the phenomenon before, can you believe that the Valar may have graced it themselves?" The elleth continued, a stunning smile on her lips.

"It's hard to imagine... but possible I guess."

"It is not wise to view this ring as something fun or exciting, we don't know the first thing about it yet. We know that it is perfectly capable of harming its host if it feels the need to, it acts much like a parasite and should be considered as such," Thranduil suddenly chimed in from where he sat at her side.

He had been quiet the whole dinner and Sigrid couldn't help but jump a little in her seat at the sound of his voice. She had almost forgotten he was there.

Arwen's cheeks bloomed a bit red and respectfully nodded her head.

"Of course, I didn't mean anything of the sort, I was just curious... I didn't actually know that it had caused harm though..." the elleth trailed off and looked in Sigrid's direction, she wanted answers.

"Well, it burned me when I tried to take it off back in Erebor, obviously it felt somehow threatened by me, even though I am its host," she explained, trying to keep her eyes on Arwen.

"Technically, It wasn't exactly a burn," the elvenking commented into his cup of wine and she spared him an irritated glance.

"Well I don't know how else to describe it, it felt like my whole body was being roasted over an open fire," she muttered out, looking away from his fine features once she saw the hint of wide smirk on his lips.

It felt she was being mocked by him... or something. The remaining three individuals at the table, just stared back and forth between the two, quietly, observant.

"How can you be so sure about that? Have you ever been roasted over a fire, dear?" Thranduil fired back with a raised brow as he fixed her with an amused look in his blue eye.

Her mouth hung open and she could feel her annoyance rising to the brim. Not only that but she felt terribly embarrassed as well. It was intimidating enough to just be present and he just had to come along and make it even more excruciatingly difficult for her.

"I don't have to have it happen to me to know what it feels like!" Sigrid hissed out and regretted her words as quickly as they left her mouth.

Thranduil looked like he was about to spit out his wine. He swallowed and looked at her with real enjoyment in his face, enjoyment at her making a fool out of herself.

"Did you just hear yourself right now? Repeat that line for me, why don't you?" he said with glee.

"Thranduil, leave her be, she is but a child! Have some sympathy for heaven's sake," Elrond suddenly cut in before Galadriel could and luckily before Sigrid could make herself look even more stupid.

The elvenking fixed him with what could only be described as a poor disguised glare. He rolled his eyes and put down his cup.

"Of course, forgive me Sigrid, I will take heed not to thread on your feelings in the future," he then said, turning his gaze to her.

His scar seemed to smile at her, as his lips tilted up in a loop-sided, loose grin. She was about to say something cruel when the ring gave off an electric shock, small enough to go unnoticed by the others but big enough to hurt. It stung madly for only a few seconds, and she hugged her stinging hand in her lap, biting her cheek. Once it had passed, she looked up to find everyone staring at her. Thranduil was the only one that stared at her with amusement though.

"May I be excused? I'm feeling very tired..." Sigrid said, looking in the direction of Elrond.

"Of course child," he responded, nodding at her.

"Sigrid," chimed Galadriel in, "You look very pale, are you quite alright?"

The lady of light gave her a heavy look, heavy with worry and concern... and questions.

"Oh I'm just fine, I'm very tired though..."

She started to rise from her seat and was soon joined by Arwen.

"Let me take you to your room, I was done anyway," said the evenstar with an easy smile, sweet like sugar.

She nodded and murmured out her thanks as the elleth took her arm and before long, they were on their way.

The evenstar lead her down the stairs and into a wide hallway. Here there dwelled only a couple of elves, laughing amongst themselves and chatting away in elvish.

"Why is the elvenking so mean to you?" Arwen asked as they passed the jolly group and turned right.

"I'm not sure, I guess he is annoyed by having to deal with me," Sigrid answered with a sigh. "He's got some major attitude problems, that's for sure.

Arwen gave a small giggle at that. "It is almost like he bullies you, you know..."

"Yeah, I know he's supposed to be like thousands of years older than me but honestly, he can be so immature sometimes. He delights in making me look like a fool," Sigrid commented, allowing herself to laugh a little at the ordeal.

"I thought I would never come across someone that would describe The great Thranduil, king of the woodland realm, as immature."

"Haha yeah well, here I am, speaking the truth, one step at the time."

They both laughed at that and Sigrid felt more and more comfortable around the elleth. She seemed normal and non-judgemental, which was nice.

"But he cannot be all bad though? I heard he saved you from some nasty kidnappers on the way here," she inquired, her perfect brows raised in interest.

"Oh you are mistaken, he didn't save me at all, the ring did," Sigrid corrected her but realised she would need to elaborate on that. "You see, the ring burned the men since it felt threatened and I mean really burned them, like cocked their flesh."

Arwen looked a bit taken aback by that.

"Oh my, that's quite something..."

"Yeah, it was... but in all honesty, King Thranduil has helped me a lot through other means," she confessed, glancing out the passing windows.

"Mmhm, like how if I may ask?"

"Well, when I first tried to take the ring off, it attacked me and the only one that could dispel the ring's onslaught was Thranduil. I would have died from the pain if he hadn't been there..."

"How utterly horrid..." Arwen whispered out, looking almost crestfallen with solicitude.

"I suppose so," was all Sigrid could manage as her mind became clouded with dreadful memories.

She was eager to change the subject, to have something that would distract her weary mind for a bit.

"Even though King Thranduil can be quite insufferable most of the times, he has his own way of being... um nice I guess," she began, trying to get her thoughts in order. "He has told me a great many things about the Valar and the Maia and their influence on the ring, as well as some general elven history that I sure didn't even know about."

Arwen shone up at that, much like a lighthouse would.

"Oh but that's great! Our history is very rich and I often find it very sad when I learn of how few humans actually know of it."

"Yes, I was quite shocked at how little I actually knew about the world around me. When I read up on the history of your people, I was positively impressed by all the details," Sigrid explained, feeling a bit giddy at being able to talk to someone about the wonders she'd learned.

"You have to tell me all about it tomorrow, maybe we can have tea in my chambers," said Arwen as they stopped before her bedroom.

"I would love that!" was all Sigrid could manage as her lips broke into a pearly smile.

"Splendid! Now get some rest, you've earned it."

With that, the evenstar took her leave and disappeared down the spiral staircase. Sigrid entered her chambers and looked longingly at her bed. She was actually looking forward to the next day. Yet as she took in the shadowed room before her, a growing gloom took hold in her chest. She didn't know what to do about the situation she was in, nothing could change that.

**...**

"Red suits you, it matches your ring," Arwen mused aloud, smiling at her as she sipped her tea.

Sigrid put her cup down and rearranged her skirt. She averted her eyes to practically anywhere but the blazing ring she had on her finger. It creeped her out, with the light it relentlessly gave off. She felt like it was looking at her. It was the source of all her unhappiness at the moment.

Sigrid has donned a crimson gown, nearly maroon in its hue. It was an elvish dress, with long, flowing sleeves, modest and classy. Very elegant and pretty but it was with a gut wrenching feeling that she realised how trivial and insignificant that was. Small, shiny patterns were sown into its texture, making the red colour change in tone depending on the light. Himien had insisted upon adding a natural-looking red-tinted lipgloss to go with the dress, it was the only makeup Sigrid had agreed upon though. Sure she was cute but she still felt like a trapped bird.

"Really? I've always felt like I would looked better in grey," she said, mirroring her smile on an impulse.

As long as she appeared normal, she would be fine.

"Nonsense! This colour is perfect for you, it looks good on your skin tone as well. It makes you look warmer and more passionate," the elleth proclaimed romantically.

"Oh whatever you say," Sigrid answered, forcing out a giggle.

She didn't want to appear as uptight as she felt.

"Himien did a good job on your hair as well, simple but dashing."

Lady Arwen reached out and put a loose brown curl behind her ear. Her hair was straight, with the bangs tucked away behind her head in a simple braid, revealing her human ears.

"The last time she did my hair, I got the distinct feeling that she aimed at making me look more elf-like," Sigrid answered, "She seems to have given up on that prospect now."

"Oh Is that so? Well I think you would look good in whatever style she throws at you, except for maybe something dwarfish," Arwen added, draining the rest of her tea and Sigrid did the same.

The sunlight passed over them in small beams, sprung forth from between the leaves. They were seated in the garden, right outside Arwen's chambers. It was as peaceful as ever. The only sounds to be heard were the distinct clucking of water from a nearby fountain, the chirps from the birds in the trees and the rustling of leaves in the wind. Both of them had bought some thin blankets with them to keep them comfortable in the autumn breeze.

"I actually found some dwarfish robes in Erebor and they are not all terrible," Sigrid commented, a pleasant smile on her red lips.

Arwen gave her a playful smile as leaned forward.

"I heard that their women have beards," she almost whispered with a sweet giggle.

"They do, I saw some of them myself... It was hard to tell them apart from the men," she answered, mirroring the movements of the elleth.

They both erupted in laughter at that and thus, didn't hear that they were no longer alone.

"Be glad none of them are here to hear that," Galadriel's tuneful voice rang out.

They both looked up to see her standing there by their side. She held chair in one hand and what looked like a collection of leaves and roses in the other.

"Grandmother! Did you sneak up on us?" Arwen exclaimed, though she was clearly happy at the sight of her elder.

The only answer they got was a wide, sunlit smile from the lady of light.

"Do you want some citrus tea?" Sigrid asked the tall lady as her hand drifted over to the teapot, "We did bring with us extra cups after all."

"Oh that would be lovely my dear. I'm so glad to see the two of you are getting along so well," Lady Galadriel responded as she took a seat on the white chair she'd just put down.

Arwen laughed, her cheeks a bit pink as she looked down at her lap. The evenstar wore a bright yellow dress with silver ornaments, it glimmered perfectly in the sunlight.

"Are you going to make a flower crown?" Arwen asked as Galadriel began dividing up her flowers and twigs.

"Ah yes, two for both of you," she responded.

Sigrid, who had busied herself with pouring tea for the elf, presented her with a cup.

The lady of light put down her twigs to take a sip.

"Grandmother, It's good that you are here, I was wondering if I could ask you something?"

"Ask away," the lady answered as she put down her cup in the table between the trio.

"Well you see, it's about King Thranduil," Arwen began, meeting a curious look from Sigrid.

Sure the girl was curious about the matter, but she was also a bit displeased with the change of topic. She had been trying hard this whole day to ignore the elvenking. To steer her thoughts away from the troubles he brought to her. It seemed to be impossible.

Galadriel, who has been busy threading flowers and twigs together, briefly looked up from her work to fix the two of them with a neutral stare.

"Has he... has he always been rather cruel?"

Arwen spoke as if she was speaking about the weather. Sigrid almost choked on her tea. Galadriel didn't look impressed though.

"It is not right for you to refer to him as cruel. Yet... he has always been a difficult person," the lady of light explained, looking very serious.

Her fingers continued their threading even though she wasn't looking much at her work anymore.

"Always? How long have you known him, if I may ask?" Sigrid couldn't help but to pipe in, intrigued at the topic even though it made her rather anxious.

Galadriel looked at her with an almost knowing look.

"The first time I met Thranduil, he was but a small child," she said.

A gasp of surprise could be heard from Arwen.

"That long ago?" She asked, her eyebrows raised a notch.

Galadriel hummed in response, nodding her blonde head.

"Ever since he was young, he had been noteworthily different. He wasn't prone to cheerfulness and was terribly serious for someone of his young age. Although he was intelligent and very curious about his surroundings," the lady of light continued to explain, weaving her tale before them.

Her fingers worked efficiently to weave a crown as well, she was already halfway done with one. Arwen and Sigrid met each other's eyes in excitement at this spontaneous story time.

"He was quite adventurous and often partook in risk-taking. He likes to push boundaries as well as himself, you see. Of course that sort of behavior was heavily frowned upon but he wasn't one to care about others opinions. Actually, he was quite arrogant as a youngster. I don't see him as arrogant nowadays, that seemed to disappear with age, yet he remains proud."

One flower crown was done and she set it aside to begin with the new one.

"Thranduil inherited a bad temper from his father. A temper that seemed to have worsened with age though."

Sigrid sat in silence, taking the information in. Honestly, she wasn't that surprised at his past attitudes, it fit well with the personality she had become familiar with today.

"I probably shouldn't tell you more. I'm actually not here to gossip," Lady Galadriel went on to explain with an easy laugh.

"Could have fooled me," answered Arwen, mimicking her laughter.

Sigrid merely smiled into her cup of tea, staying quiet. She was about to take a gulp of it when she realised that it was in fact empty.

**...**

Time passed by and soon, both Arwen and Sigrid sat with two flower crowns on their head. A crown in all of the autumns soft tones. Red, orange and yellow leaves, coupled with red roses, it was truly quite the artwork.

Lady Galadriel sat with Sigrid's hand in her own, just as she had done before, trying to engage the ring. Arwen sat and watched them both with a keen eye, sipping her tea.

"It won't answer my calls, It is like it has shut itself off from me," the lady of light suddenly blurted out, her brows creasing themselves in concentration, though her eyes remained shut.

Sigrid was afraid to say something, scared to disturb process. Arwen's lips parted but she ultimately decided to stay silent as well. In the end, Lady Galadriel gave a frustrated sigh as she dropped Sigrid's hand. She opened her blue, brilliant eyes and gave her a small smile, yet it didn't reach her eyes.

"I need to do some meditation on this," she admitted, lifting her cup to her lips.

Then she seemed to freeze and Sigrid saw one elven ear twitch slightly, as if she had picked up on a sound. Galadriel, gave a glance over her shoulder, the easy smile never leaving her physique. "Thranduil, would you care to join me?" she asked and the two females at the table immediately jumped in their seat at the sight of the elf.

He stood proud and tall, looking down on them from a balcony, connected to a different part of the estate.

"I think your method is flawed, my lady," the elvenking said as he stared down at them, his hands grasping the stone railing.

This made Lady Galadriel turn even more in her seat.

"How so?"

Sigrid met his eyes then and Thranduil gave her an askew smirk, his scar as visible as ever.

Then to all of their surprises, he proceeded to catapult himself over the railing, jumping down a few good meters fall and landing easily on one knee. Arwen gave a gasp and Sigrid just stared at him open-mouthed like a fish out of water. Thranduil walked up to them with that ridiculous smirk on his face.

"I should have thought you would have outgrown your parkour phase by now, King Thranduil," Galadriel said, a wide, bright smile on her lips as she eyed him up and down.

He just raised his eyebrows at her.

"Why shouldn't I use a shortcut when I see one?" He answered, coming to stand by Sigrid's side.

The table didn't make so much of a creek as he leaned on it. "Give me your hand girl," he said, fixing her with an expectant stare.

She placed her hand in his, rolling her eyes and making sure Arwen could see it. The elleth looked like she wanted to burst out into laughter. A warning look from her grandmother kept her in check though.

His rough hand held her own smooth one in semi-tight grip. The ring pulsed to life, sending heat waves from their joined hands all the way up to her elbow. Sigrid couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath at the gripping sensation. She could tell Thranduil felt it too. For he was looking at her with an almost triumphant grin.

"Trying to coax the ring to life won't do much. I suggest tampering with the things we already know to work instead," The elvenking began to articulate. "We already know that the ring has an outstanding ability to react when it feels truly threatened. Sigrid why don't you refresh our memory of what the ring has done for you so far?"

He raised a thick, dark brow at her and she gave a small nod. Disentangling her fingers from his, she inspected the trinket on her finger, gathering her thoughts.

"It burns people when it feels threatened, It numbed my pain, nearly taking it away completely and it has also healed my wounds…" She explained, her eyes darting around the elves around her.

"Alright very good. Let's just pick out one of those three abilities and study it. For the sake of yourself, We might as well start with its healing abilities and push its limits," Thranduil then answered, seeming oddly excited.

In her mind, she found it very hard to detect any flaws in his suggestion. Yet Sigrid was on her guard, she knew she had to be when dealing with this person.

"Sure but I have only healed my own wounds and to be completely honest, I wasn't even aware that I was doing it," Sigrid clarified, biting her lip in contemplation.

"No worries, give me your hand," Thranduil said.

She placed her ringed hand in his once more, looking hesitatingly in the direction of Arwen and Galadriel.

Arwen seemed only a little bit confused, While Galadriel looked… nearly suspicious. The lady of light's blue eyes glimmered and suddenly became wide open, her lips flew open in a silent gasp. Confused, Sigrid followed her stare and came to realise that Thranduil had pulled out a big knife, seemingly out of nowhere. An elven blade, sharp and deadly. He placed it on her wrist and she could literally feel the coldness of said blade seep into her skin, chilling her to the core.

"Thranduil!" Galadriel hissed out, looking outraged.

"I will only leave a little cut, and then we will wait and see what happens," the elvenking quickly answered her, keeping his gaze on the knife.

"You haven't even asked the girl-" the lady of light continued but her words died away as the knife drew a sharp, clean line over her pale wrist.

Sigrid gave a gasp, not out of pain but more out of shock.

"I-I don't feel anything…" she breathed out, inspecting the bloody line.

"No pain at all?!" Arwen cut in, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"None," she responded giving the elleth a strained smile.

Galadriel was the only one who remained quiet. She crossed her legs and placed a hand on her lips, opting a thinking position. Her blue eyes seemed a bit stony, as she looked in the direction of the elvenking. Thranduil was keen on ignoring her stare.

"Now look," he said, holding up Sigrid's wrist.

The first thing she felt was heat, gathering around the wound. Then, the line of blood, became stitched over with a light pink hide. Then the pink hide faded away to a white coat. Then it morphed together with the rest of her skin and not even a scar was left in its wake.

"Amazing…" whispered Arwen, looking flabbergasted.

"Exactly as predicted," Thranduil said in return. "Now let's move onto something bigger."

"Thranduil," a heavy voice broke out.

This time, the elvenking had to meet her stare, and he had to answer.

"Yes?"

Galadriel's hand left her lips as she crossed her arms.

"You are not allowed to mortally wound the girl, and you cannot do a thing without the blessing of Sigrid herself, Is that clear?" She asserted, her voice steady and almost a bit eerily.

She felt his nails dig into her skin, as his hand clenched around hers. Sigrid observed his tense face. He looked very agitated over the fact that he had just been ordered around by his senior.

"Of course, I wouldn't dream about it."


End file.
